


The Red Thing

by Lilith_In_The_Garden



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society (Homestuck), And Gamzee's a dick, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dave's a DJ, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, I'll probably never not write Gamzee as not a dick, Karkat's a college student, Like chapter 3 probably, M/M, Moirails With Pails, Neighbors, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, it's also temporary, or just, rails with pails, that's catchier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10958823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilith_In_The_Garden/pseuds/Lilith_In_The_Garden
Summary: The first time you ever realised there was something wrong with you, you were two sweeps old.You still remember it like it was just yesterday. You were at the playground in your then-community, which you had long since moved from. You’d been playing ‘tag’ with some of the other young trolls, but had tripped and scraped your knees.One of the other troll’s custodial guardians had noticed what had happened, and wandered over to make sure you were alright. You don’t think you’ll ever forget the look on her face when she picked you up and saw the mutant-red seeping through the knees of your pants.Things spiraled downhill quickly after that. You’d never quite understood what was happening when you were young, but you’d known that you’d become an outcast. Other trolls around you started to avoid you. Sometimes they’d throw things at you – food, stones, anything that might hurt you. Other times, they’d call you names – mistake, mutant, freak.You preferred when they tried to hurt you. At least then you could fight back.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time you ever realised there was something wrong with you, you were two sweeps old.

You still remember it like it was just yesterday. You were at the playground in your then-community, which you had long since moved from. You’d been playing ‘tag’ with some of the other young trolls, but had tripped and scraped your knees.

One of the other troll’s custodial guardians had noticed what had happened, and wandered over to make sure you were alright. You don’t think you’ll ever forget the look on her face when she picked you up and saw the mutant-red seeping through the knees of your pants.

Things spiralled downhill quickly after that. You’d never quite understood what was happening when you were young, but you’d known that you’d become an outcast. Other trolls around you started to avoid you. Sometimes they’d throw things at you – food, stones, anything that might hurt you. Other times, they’d call you names – mistake, mutant, freak.

You preferred when they tried to hurt you. At least then you could fight back.

You tried to keep it a secret, but of course your guardian, Kankri, managed to find out anyway. You suppose that shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did; you were always coming home a mess after a day of bullshit. Either way, you moved after that, and you were more careful to make sure no one knew, and things weren’t too bad.

And then you met him.

 

* * *

 

 

Your name is Dave Strider, and you’re late to work. Again.

By the time you rush out of your apartment, it’s five to ten, meaning you have five minutes to get there. This is keeping in mind that it’s a ten minute drive, you don’t have a car, and you’re not finished getting dressed yet.

You’re fucked.

You kick your skateboard down the stairs, ignoring the yelp of surprise from someone further down. It didn’t sound like it’d hit them, so you’re sure they’re fine. Probably.

You pull your shirt on over your head as you run after it; well, as well as you can run, with your backpack between your legs.

Goddamn, you’re a hot mess.

You’ve just gotten your shirt over your head and onto your torso where it belongs when you bump into something. Or rather, someone. Specifically, the someone who had narrowly avoided your skateboard earlier.

Your hand shoots out before you even think, and you grab their wrist as the stumble back, stopping them from falling down the stairs. At the same time, you give a hard nod, jostling your shades down from their resting place on top of your head, and into place on your face, effectively concealing your eyes.

Just the way you like it.

Now that that’s out of the way, you direct your gaze to the person you’d just bumped into, your hand still firm on their wrist.

Looking at them, you’re somewhat surprised to see that it’s a troll. You know that quite a few of them live in this building, but most of them are alert and agile enough to avoid bumping into you like this. What’s more, you’re fairly certain you know all the trolls in this building, but you’ve never seen this guy before in your life.

You’re pretty sure it’s a guy, at least. He’s got a mess of thick black hair on his head, and when he stares at you with wide open eyes, you can see that they’re still dark grey, only the slightest flecks of colour in them. It looks like red, but you’re probably mistaken – you’ve met quite a few trolls with burgundy eyes before, but never the straight up bright red that his seem to be. Either way, it looks like his eyes are only just starting to change; he’s still fairly young, then, or a late bloomer.

Just by looking at him, he appears to be only a few years younger than you, maybe nineteen or twenty. He’s pretty scrawny, from what you can tell by holding his wrist; his arms and torso are swallowed completely by a huge sweater, and what you can see of his legs are hidden by baggy jeans. When you glance to the skateboard you noticed in his hands, you can see that his claws are painted with a chipped black polish. You’re temporarily confused by his apparent lack of horns, but then you spot them; two nubby little things almost completely hidden by his fluffy hair.

His wide eyes focus on you, and they narrow, his lips curling back to bare his crooked, dull looking fangs at you.

He is absolutely fucking adorable.

He jerks his arm away from you, the motion nearly sending him tumbling down the stairs once more. You grab his shoulders, but make sure to let go once he’s balanced to stop him from stumbling again. He doesn’t seem to particularly appreciate it.

You think he appreciates what you say next even less. “Hey babe, couldn’t help but notice you checking out my ride.”

He seems confused for a moment, then remembers the skateboard in his hands. He sneers and pushes the board into your chest; you have to hurry to grab it before it falls when he releases it.

“Your stupid fucking wheeled board nearly took my fucking leg off! How could you be so fucking irresponsible to just let it fly off down the stairs like that? You’re lucky I don’t break it over your fucking head.”

Wow, he’s loud. His voice is kinda grating too; a little high, kind of breaks every few words. It suits him, though. You think you could get used to it.

You shrug at his seemingly empty threat. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that, dude. Didn’t think anyone’d be on the stairs all the way up here at ten o'clock at night.” You put your skateboard down and kick it, sending it rolling back down the stairs and earning you a growl from the troll boy in front of you.

You pick up your backpack from where you’d dropped it, noticing for the first time a suitcase lying on the ground behind the troll. “You just moving in?” You unzip your bag and grab your jacket from it as you speak, shrugging it on.

The troll seems to suddenly remember what he’d been doing and turns to snatch up his suitcase, muttering angrily before turning to snap at you. “What the fuck does it look like, you whimsical bulgescratching poopflinging fuckbagging shitspewing sparklefuck razzmatazz of go fuck yourself in the ass?!”

You blink, speechless. Finally, the barest trace of a smile graces your face. “Angry little fucker, aren’t you.”

He glowers at you. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Oh, shit.”

You push past him, earning an indignant “Hey!” You pause briefly, turning slightly to lower your shades and wink at him, then they’re on your face again, and you’re out the door.

It’s easy to hop onto your skateboard and navigate the streets to the club you dj at. You’re definitely late now; you were supposed to be there ten minutes ago. Shit, your boss is going to be pissed. You should probably start making an effort to wake up before nine thirty.

Your mind quickly wanders to other things as you manoeuvre through the streets, easily weaving through crowds and swerving around corners. You’ve travelled this route a million times already or something, probably.

You find yourself thinking about that troll boy you’d bumped into. You should try to get his number. Oh fuck, you didn’t even know his name. Well, if he really was moving into your apartment building, you’d have plenty of time to remedy that.

Probably.

You power slide to a stop outside of Heat and Clockwork, the club you’ve been working at for the last four years, ever since you’d dropped out of college when you were nineteen. Cringing at the memory of those awkward years, you grab your skateboard and cram it into your bag, though of course it didn’t entirely fit.

You sling your bag over your shoulder and push your way into the club. The name definitely suits it. There are warm lights flashing red, yellow, orange. There are clocks inked onto the wall with red spraypaint. Supposedly, the dancefloor used to be a screen that would display a gear any time someone stepped on it, but years of heavy feet and alcohol spills had destroyed it, so now the cracked screen only shot out random bursts of bright lights.

You elbow your way a writhing crowd of glitter-covered girls and half-dressed boys, all sweating from the proximity of so many other bodies, grabbing and grinding to the beat of the music which pulses through the room. One girl manages to catch your eye and wink at you. You smirk and blow a kiss in her direction in response. You can’t hear her laugh over the noise.

Finally, you make it to the front of the club. Hopping into the dj’s booth, you flash an apologetic smile to the girl who’d been covering for you – this troll named Aradia with these wicked curly ram horns. She purses her lips at you, but can’t seem to maintain a straight face, laughing and shaking her head.

“You’re lucky Her Imperial Condescension isn’t here yet. What is this, the seventh time you’ve been late this month? Dave, it’s only the eighteenth.”

You make a face, waving her aside and stepping into the dj booth. “And that’s better than I did last month. I’m making progress, let me live.” The ‘Condescension’ thing is an inside joke for the people who work here. Your boss’ name is Candace, but she insists that everyone call her Candy. You do, to her face, but behind her back, you all refer to her as Her Imperial Condescension – a reference to her ‘I’m better than you’ attitude.

“What about Meenah, she around?”

“I saw her come in earlier, yeah. She’s out on the dancefloor somewhere, I think.”

You scan the floor as you plug in your headphones. Sure enough, Meenah’s out on the floor, tearing it up. Despite having all the curve of a perfect square, she carries herself like Nicki Minaj or something. Like mother like daughter, you suppose.

You slowly change the song playing, nodding along with the beat of the music. You can see the crowd before you shift their movements to match the time of the new song. Aradia sighs, wishes you good luck on your shift, and wonders off. It’s just you, them, and the music.

The girl who’d winked at you earlier catches your eye from halfway across the room. She’s moved off the dancefloor to get a drink now, but she’s still watching you. You’re pretty sure you know what that means.

 

* * *

 

 

Hours later, you’re stumbling back into your room, and you’re not alone. The girl from the club’s with you. You’re pretty sure her name’s Anabelle or Mary-Lou or some other sickly-sweet southern name like that.

You’re both laughing against each other’s mouths as you hold her hips and help her back up to your bed, the two of you toppling onto it. You only move your lips off of hers to trail sloppy kisses down her neck. You’re not drunk – you don’t screw drunk, ever – but you’ll admit you’re a bit less sober than usual.

Maybe-Annabelle moans beneath you as you suck a row of hickies onto her neck. You shift so that the two of you are on the bed properly, then move to straddle her hips. She moans again in appreciation, her fingers slipping under your shirt and splaying against your skin. When you grind down against her, she gasps and arches her back. Moments later, she’s tugging off your shirt. You’re grinning down at her when you return the favour and strip her out of the thin shirt she’d been wearing. She grabs your hair, tugging you back down for another kiss. This time, she’s the one to trail hot lips along your neck, nipping and sucking as she goes. You groan, hands moving down to push her tight skirt up, and –

And you freeze. Someone’s banging on your door. Maybe-Mary-Lou whines, tugging lightly at your hair and trying to regain your attention. You barely have time to roll your hips against hers once more, however, before the banging starts up again, louder.

You groan loudly, rolling out of bed, and huffing when the girl’s hand slides off of your body. So much for that. You’ll have to wrap this up quickly so you can back to her.

You move to the door and pull it open. Standing on the other side is a small, grey-eyed, familiar troll.

His face is already slightly pink, but it goes red when he sees the girl in your bed, then to you, shirt off, and puts the pieces together. You smirk. Somehow, you’re not exactly surprised to see him. “Hey there babe. ‘Fraid I’m a bit busy at the moment. If you want to wait for a bit, I’ll come out and talk to you after?”

He glowers at you, clearly somewhere between annoyed and flustered. He’s way too easy to read for someone you barely know. “No need. I’ll make this fast. I just moved in next door, and I’m _trying_ to unpack, and it’s help if I could hear myself think over all the moaning and groaning coming from over here.”

Shit. You’d almost forgotten about how thin the walls here were. But the room to your left is occupied to an old guy who turns off his hearing aid whenever he’s home. And the room on your right’s been empty since before you moved…

Oh.

You’re tempted to laugh. You almost do. So this guy’s your new neighbour? As in, _next door neighbour?_

Well.

Goddamn.

You offer your hand instead, a sly grin on your face. “The name’s Dave Strider. Nice to meet you, neighbour.”

The troll studies your hand almost suspiciously, then reluctantly shakes it. His grip is pretty weak, but his hand is more calloused than you’d expected, and you’re quite aware of the feeling of his painted claws pressing into your skin.

“…Karkat Vantas. Keep it down, will you?” Without waiting for a response, he withdraws and ducks down the hall, towards his own room.

You close the door and return to bed, struggling to get your face under control. You hadn’t even realized you’d still been smiling. Annabelle-Lou drapes herself over your shoulders, but you roll them back and dislodge her. Somehow, you think you’ve lost interest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Karkat talk a lot after that. You get closer faster than you would have expected. You tell him about your brother, and he tells you about his blood. Turns out it’s not burgundy at all.

You may have lost interest in Annabeth, but you sure as hell don’t lose interest in Karkat. From the way the troll had unashamedly halted your action to tell you to dial down the volume, to the way he appeared perpetually disgruntled, something about him was just incredibly intriguing. Besides, you and he were neighbours. It was important to establish a rapport between neighbours; after all, if not a neighbour, who could you go to in the middle of the night looking for a pinch of sugar or whatever the cliché was?

You’re not about to slight yourself and your Strider sexy-sex sexual prowess, but you just aren’t able to get it up. All of your concentration was going straight to not letting your mind wander to The Troll Next Door. It wasn’t even in a sexual context, you just really wanted to know him. Like, actually _know_ him.

Meh. Whatever. She was huffing and getting dressed, anyways. The mood had been ruined before your boner deficiency had stepped in, this absolutely wasn’t your fault.

You can hear so much from next door; fabric shifting, furniture moving, keys clacking away. He’s playing a song you don’t know; it’s quiet, and you can’t hear the words. You lay awake and listen, imagining him moving around the room, unpacking his clothes, setting up his furniture, getting comfortable in bed. It sounds like it’s pressed against the same wall yours is; if you really listen, you can even hear the springs creaking whenever he shifts. The sounds of life so close to you. You’re not used to it.

Just because you’re not used to it doesn’t mean you’re opposed to it. It’s more... _could_ get used to it. Regardless, it’s somewhat comforting - after having grown up constantly on guard in a nearly silent apartment, the sounds of non-hostile life weren’t really that bad.

That night, you don’t lie awake in bed as long as usual.

Consequently, you wake up earlier than you have in probably years. You take one look at your phone and groan. It was barely nine, and it went against every strand of your DNA to be out of bed before eleven unless you absolutely had to. The sun is shining in your eyes, though, and you feel more well-rested than you had in months. There’s no way you could go back to sleep now, so you compromise by sitting up, wrapping your sheets around yourself like a cape, and scrolling through your phone.

You’re tempted to ask around on pesterchum to see if anyone knows anything about Karkat, but that would be kinda really stalker-y. Besides, the guy lives right next door. You should take advantage of that. You go quiet for a minute, listening. You can still hear him typing. Did he sleep at all last night?

Whatever, not the point right now. Ignoring every instinct in your body, you roll out of bed with another groan, dropping the blanket. You stretch before shuffling off towards your bathroom, scratching your back as you go.

You may not take the longest showers known to Strider-kind, but you’ve been known to take your time getting ready. Not today, though; today you’re a man on a mission. You take a quick shower, go through the motions of combing your hair and getting dressed, and then you’re out the door.

It doesn't take more than a few steps to reach the neighbor's apartment. Holy shit, he lives so close. You could see him every day, if you wanted to, which you don't really; you're just curious about him, that's all.

You knock on his door. On the other side, you can hear shifting and grumbling growing steadily louder as he approaches.

He looks completely unimpressed as he opens the door. He sizes you up, which is funny considering he’s several inches shorter than you and currently sporting a bedhead and pajamas (a T-shirt at least two sizes too big for him and pajama pants with a crab pattern on them, lord bless this child). He’s bleary eyed and glaring, clearly not happy with being made to get out of bed this early, even if the bags under his eyes make it look like he didn’t sleep a wink. Actually, you could hear him typing up until you passed out. _Did_ he sleep?

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by a grumpy troll clearing his throat loudly. He’s staring up at you expectantly, arms crossed, bare foot tapping. His toenails are painted bright red, jesus christ.

“...Sup?”

Karkat pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly not moved by your articulate greeting. He mutters under his breath, likely a bombardment of insults, and begins closing the door.

Unfortunately for him, it’s not that easy to get rid of a Strider. You jam your foot in the doorway to stop it from closing, frowning at him ever so slightly. “Wow, rude.”

He sighs, not even seeming surprised, and pushes the door just a touch more open, blocking your view of the majority of his apartment while still remaining in your line of sight. “...What do you want, Strider?”

It’s your turn to cross your arms, your frown tilting up into a smirk. “I was gonna invite you out for coffee. And it looks like you could use it.”

Karkat seems to consider this for a moment. Finally, he sighs and places a hand on your chest, pushing you slightly. “Go wait in the lobby or something. I’ll be down in a bit.” Before you get a chance to reply, he slams the door in your face.

You make sure to complain loudly as you walk away and start heading down the stairs, but you’re not actually mad. He said yes! That’s definitely a strong start.

You’ve been shooting the shit on your phone for maybe ten minutes when Karkat enters the lobby. He’s taken the chipped polish off of his claws and changed into a grey hoodie and jeans. And while it doesn’t exactly look like he’s combed his hair, it’s damp and sitting a bit flatter than it had been earlier, giving you a better view of his small, rounded horns.

You snort and nod towards the door. “Alright nubs, let’s go.”

He snarls at you, which may have been intimidating if he wasn’t ridiculously small or had sharp teeth like probably any other troll in existence. Instead he’s stuck with a mouthful of fangs as nubby as his horns. He looks like a kitten trying to puff itself up to be threatening.

“Call me nubs again, and I will _rip your throat out with my bare hands.”_

You roll your eyes behind your shades, but keep quiet. Even if his horns and fangs are nubby, his claws are pretty fucking sharp, and though you don’t think he’d actually murder you in cold blood, you decide not to take that risk.

He seems to take your silence as surrender and brushes past you, breezing out the door. You huff irritably and follow him out. It’s early autumn, cool enough now for you to wear a T-shirt and jacket and be comfortable. Coming from Texas means you get colder more easily than other people you know, but you’re a bit surprised to see Karkat in such heavy clothes. Low-blooded trolls - as, by now, you know he must be - tend to run hot; you’ve seen Aradia out in the snow in a T-shirt, jeans and a thin cardigan. How is he not melting right now?

“Are you going to tell me why you’re staring at me, or…?”

You blink. Karkat’s looking up at you expectantly, one eyebrow raised. Was it really that obvious? You can’t pretend you weren’t now, so you shrug it off and play it cool. “I just thought you must be hot in that hoodie. I mean, aren’t you like, a burgundy blood or something?”

He tenses, and you regret speaking. You know most low bloods get defensive of their blood colours, but you guess you’re so used to your troll friends and acquaintances being comfortable with their blood that you just didn’t think about it.

“Right.” Karkat replies tersely. Without another word, he storms off ahead of you. You hurry to catch up, silently swearing at yourself.

“Woah, hey, wait up! Okay, yeah, that was none of my business and I’m sorry. But don’t wander off by yourself - aren’t you new to town? You’ll get lost.”

He slows down enough to let you catch up, but he doesn’t look happy about it. “Fine. Lead the way then, Strider.”

You wordlessly lead him to a nearby coffee shop - it’s small and quiet, but they play good music and their coffee’s pretty strong, which you suspect Karkat will appreciate. You take his arm before he can enter; he jerks away from you, but it gets him to turn and look at you, which had been your goal in the first place. ”Listen, okay? I know hæmo-bullshit can be a touchy subject. I won’t bring it up again if you don’t want to talk about it. Sorry.”

He regards you wordlessly for a moment, like he’s trying to gauge how serious you are. Finally, he nods. “Apology accepted. Now shut up about it so we can go get coffee. You’re paying.”

The two of you enter the cafe, order your drinks (two coffees for Karkat, a a second-rate imitation of the unicorn frappucino for you, and a cookie that you said is for you but you’re absolutely going to try to give to him), pay (despite what he’d said before, Karkat insists on paying for himself, because apparently if you paid then it would be a date, and it’s absolutely not a date) and find a table to sit at while you wait. Karkat insists on sitting at one of the tall tables despite the fact that he has to climb into his chair, and you’re willing to bet you can guess why he wanted to sit there (it’s because he wants to feel tall. He’s so short) but you choose not to say anything about it. You don’t want to upset him again.

You lean your elbows on the table and rest your face on your hands. “So, Kat...can I call you Kat?”

“No.”

“So, Kat -”

“I said no!”

“What made you move all the way here? Actually, where are you from? You’re not like, fresh off the spaceship, are you?”

Karkat rolls his eyes, deciding to argue about something other than what you call him. “Dave, there hasn’t been an incoming ship in like, probably seven sweeps. I got here like, eight sweeps ago. Lived in Oregon. I moved here for school.”

“...School?”

“Yeah. School. Like, college? I’m only, like, nine and a half, Dave, what did you expect.”

“Nine and a half…”

“Sweeps.”

“Uh…”

Karkat rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed by your extensive vocabulary. He seems to think for a moment, then says, “About twenty human years and, uh...sssseven months.”

“Oh. Okay, yeah, right.”

“...You don’t know the first thing about trolls, do you?”

“Of course I do! I have tons of troll friends. I’ve slept with maybe five or six trolls-”

“Oh my gog, stop, that’s not information I want. I hope I wasn’t supposed to be impressed by that.”

“What? No, I wasn’t trying to impress you, I just meant, y’know, I _do_ know a thing or two about trolls, so-”

“What our genitals look like doesn’t count, Dave.” He crosses his arms, frowning at you. Jesus, he’s loud; other people are starting to stare. Which wouldn’t be such a big deal, if it wasn’t for the conversation topic.

Luckily, your drinks arrive, and Karkat finds something else to be angry about. He grabs everything and brings them back to your table before you can even offer to do it. He’s just about to pour milk into the first one when he spots it. “The barista spelled my name wrong!”

Said barista shrinks back behind the counter. A reasonable reaction to an angry troll, you suppose.

You look at the cup in front of him. Sure enough, a misspelled version of his name is scrawled across it, ‘CarCat’.

You try to resist the urge to burst out laughing.

You fail.

“This isn’t funny, Dave! It’s _Karkat,_ with ‘K’s, not ‘C’s! I am _not_ an automobile, nor am I an earth purrbeast! This is an insult not only to me, but to my entire culture.”

“Jesus, Kat, calm down! It’s just a name on a cup, it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? _Not a big deal?_ How can you be so nonchalant about this?”

You sigh and reach across the table to pap his face. You’ve seen trolls do that to calm each other down, but Karkat looks horrified, and the few other trolls in the cafe start whispering. One even scoffs and leaves.

Karkat smacks your hand away from his face. _“Dave, what the fuck are you doing?”_

“Uh...well, I thought I was calming you down, but based on your reaction, I guess I was wrong about that.”

“You can’t just go around _papping_ trolls! Do you even know the social implications of that?”

“No…?”

“Ugh!” Karkat throws his hands in the air in frustration, spilling the little container of milk he’d still been holding. When you laugh, he lobs it at you, hitting you in the forehead. You frown at the few droplets of milk on your shades, and it’s his turn to laugh at you. You’re not even mad - his laugh is unfairly cute.

Things kind of calm down between you two after that. He’s still loud and you’re still obnoxious, and you’re pretty sure someone started filming you two at some point, but neither of you care between your chatting and your laughing. He downs his coffees, but he has to drown them in sugar and milk to do it. You make him laugh halfway through the second one and he actually choked on it. You give him your cookie ‘as an apology’, and he makes a big show of complaining how shitty earth food is, but you can totally see a smile on his face when he takes it.

It’s maybe an hour before you two leave, much to the relief of the customers and employees, you imagine. You keep joking around as you head back to your apartments, mostly making fun of each other.

“I honestly don’t even know how you’ve lived this long with such pathetic intellect.”

“Can this be our thing? This is totally our thing. Insults, I mean. Like, we’re gonna fall in love, but never say ‘I love you’, we’re just gonna insult each other as offensively as we can.”

“That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard, and you’re an imbecile.”

“Aw, thanks babe, and you’re short and bossy.”

“Oh my _gog._ ”

The joking stops as you emerge at the top of the last flight of stairs to your apartments. Karkat freezes, staring ahead. You frown in confusion and follow his gaze.

Standing in front of his apartment door is an unfamiliar troll.

He definitely doesn’t live in this building; you’d remember him. He’s tall, maybe an inch or two taller than you. His hair’s jet black and shoulder length, messy enough to give Karkat a run for his money. His dark purple eyes are droopy and bloodshot, and he’s wearing this weird white face paint that makes him look like a clown or something. He’s got these huge curved horns, and when he spots Karkat and grins, you can see that his teeth are all alarmingly sharp.

“Uh…” You start to move to put yourself between this guy and Karkat, but the smaller troll is having none of it. He pushes right past you and launches himself at the stranger.

“Gamzee!”

That...didn’t sound angry. Which would be because it wasn’t. The next thing you know, Karkat’s hugging this Gamzee guy and...jesus christ, is he _purring?_ Gamzee seems used to this, wrapping his arms around Karkat and rocking him back and forth, though his eyes are fixed on you the whole time. It’s more than a little unnerving.

“Hey, there’s my Karbro. I was up and startin’ to think I had the wrong place. And uh...who’s this motherfucker with you?”

Karkat pulls away enough to turn and look at you, seeming almost apologetic. “Oh. This is my friend, Dave. Dave, this is Gamzee.”

Oh.

Well.

Friend’s better than neighbor, you guess.

Wait, did this mean your cute troll neighbor was taken?

“Uh, Dave, listen, this was fun, but I’ve been wanting to hang out with Gam for forever, and I haven’t seen him in so long, and we had this whole thing planned for today…”

“Oh. Hey, I mean, I get it. Go have fun. We can hang out later.”

Karkat gives you this grateful little smile, and you return it with a smile of your own, trying to pretend you aren’t as upset as you are.

“Um, my trolltag’s carcinoGeneticist. You can shoot me a message later, alright? See you.”

He doesn’t even wait for you to reply before setting off back down the stairs, Gamzee in tow. The latter bumps into you with his shoulder as he passes. Somehow, you don’t think it was an accident.

 

* * *

 

 

You figure three hours is enough time. You’ve already added Karkat on pesterchum, so you shoot him a message.

 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 14:37 --

 

TG: hey man  
TG: you back from your date with the juggalo yet  
 

carcinoGeneticist is offline!

 

TG: guess not  
TG: whats the deal with him anyway  
TG: is he like your boyfriend or something  
TG: not that its any of my business i guess  
TG: uh i had fun today  
TG: or this morning or whatever  
TG: we should do something like that again some time  
TG: if your boyfriend doesnt hate me and is cool with that idea

 

carcinoGeneticist is online!

 

CG: HE’S NOT MY BOYFRIEND.  
TG: oh thank god  
CG: WHAT?  
TG: no i just meant like  
TG: i thought i had the wrong chumhandle or something  
TG: so im relieved that youre here to alleviate that concern  
CG: WOW, LOOK, YOU’RE USING YOUR BIG BOY WORDS!  
CG: I DIDN’T KNOW YOU KNEW WHAT ‘ALLEVIATE’ MEANT.  
TG: im full of surprises babe  
CG: ANYWAY, YEAH, TROLLS DON’T DO DATING THE WAY HUMANS DO.  
CG: WE HAVE QUADRANTS.  
CG: WHICH YOU’D PROBABLY KNOW IF YOU ACTUALLY TOOK TIME TO LEARN MORE ABOUT TROLLS THAN JUST THEIR REPRODUCTIVE SYSTEM.  
TG: woah hey youre being unfair  
TG: i know stuff about trolls  
CG: ANYWAY, GAMZEE’S MY MOIRAIL.  
TG: your what  
CG: MOIRAIL.  
CG: I GUESS THE CLOSEST THING HUMANS HAVE TO THAT IS LIKE, BEST FRIEND?  
CG: BUT IT’S MORE THAN THAT.  
CG: MOIRAILS ARE LIKE...PLATONIC SOULMATES.  
TG: oh my god  
CG: THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO BE THERE FOR EACH OTHER NO MATTER WHAT.  
CG: THEY TAKE CARE OF EACH OTHER AND MAKE SURE THEIR PARTNER IS OKAY EMOTIONALLY.  
TG: oh my god this sounds so cliché  
CG: SHUT UP, IT’S BEAUTIFUL.  
CG: AND JUST SO YOU KNOW, PAPPING SOMEONE’S CHEEK IS AN EXTREMELY PALE COURSE OF ACTION.  
TG: pale  
CG: YEAH, MOIRALLEGIANCE IS IN THE PALE QUADRANT.  
TG: is this because you guys use buckets for sex  
CG: WHAT?  
CG: NO.  
CG: THAT’S ‘PAIL’ YOU FUCKING DOUCHEMUNCHING DINGUS.  
TG: so youre saying you dont literally ride your monorail  
CG: UGH. MOIRAIL, YOU DUNDERFUCK.  
TG: and moray eels dont get all slithery with each other got it  
CG: WHY DO I EVEN BOTHER.  
CG: I’M GONNA GET YOU TO SAY THIS WORD IF IT’S THE LAST THING I DO. MOIRAILS.  
TG: monrails  
CG: MOIRAILS.  
TG: alpha males  
CG: UGH. REPEAT AFTER ME. MORE.  
TG: more  
CG: RAILS.  
TG: rails  
CG: GOOD. NOW PUT IT TOGETHER. MOIRAILS.  
TG: mwah rails  
TG: as in smooch pals  
TG: moi rails me rails  
TG: more pails  
TG: ha  
TG: get it  
TG: its a bucket joke  
CG: I LITERALLY HATE YOU.  
TG: look dude pail sounds like pale right  
TG: rails with pails  
TG: wait hold up isnt hate a quadrant are you coming on to me  
TG: shouldnt you be coming onto a bucket instead  
TG: or into i guess  
CG: TROLL JEGUS, HELP ME.

 

* * *

 

 

You and Karkat talk a lot after that. If he’s not hanging out with Gamzee, then chances are he’s with you. You get closer faster than you would have expected. You tell him about your brother, and he tells you about his blood. Turns out it’s not burgundy at all.

Sometimes he and Gamzee hang out in his room, and you can hear them talk. They stay up for hours and just talk and talk and talk. Karkat talks a lot more, though. You try not to listen, but sometimes, you think you can hear him say your name.

Gamzee’s not there today, and even without trying to listen, you can clearly hear Karkat through the walls. He’s loud today, louder than usual, stomping around and yelling at someone. Except he doesn’t sound angry, not really. He sounds distressed, almost pleading.

“No, _you_ listen! I have _always_ been there for you, and just this _once,_ I need you to be here for me. So get your ass over here and- no. No, don’t you fucking dare. I swear to gog, if you hang up the phone right now, I’ll...Gamzee? Gamzee, are you there? ...Fuck!”

More angry stomping, sounding like it’s getting closer now. Then the squealing of bedsprings that suggests he’s thrown himself down in bed. Moments later, you can hear the clacking of keys. It sounds like he’s tapping on them pretty hard. He starts speaking again, but he’s quieter and more pleading than he had been before.

“Gamzee, come online now. Come on, Gam, please. Fuck, please, I need you, I…” The typing stops. A moment passes in silence, then another, and then you hear something that sounds painfully like a sob.

You don’t think. You get to your feet, not even bothering to change out of your pajamas or put on shoes as you hurry out of your apartment, taking a few quick strides to bang on Karkat’s door. You don’t stop until he pulls it open, and he’s looking up at you with these bright, hopeful eyes, even though they’re swimming with red tears which keep slipping down his cheeks. Then he sees that it’s you, and the hope drains from his eyes; he looks absolutely crushed. You try not to feel a bit hurt yourself.

He’s turned his eyes to the ground, and he’s rubbing at them with one of his sleeves, but almost instantly as he lowers his hand, you can feel droplets of water hitting your bare feet. “...Now isn’t a good time, Strider.”

He starts to close the door, but he’s not slamming it this time, and it’s easy to grab it and pull it back open. There’s no resistance; he isn’t even trying to stop you from getting in. You take his arm gently and step into his apartment, closing the door behind you. He doesn’t stop you from doing that either, just sort of slumping against your side.

You’ve never really been in Karkat’s apartment before, so you sort of glance around to get a feel of the place. As you’d suspected, it seems to have the same sort of layout as your apartment, but mirrored. It’s also pretty sparsely furnished, but you suppose that’s to be expected since he just recently moved in.

You glance over at Karkat now. Poor guy looks just about ready to collapse. You contemplate guiding him to his couch, but apparently you take too long to decide, because he pulls away from you wearily and shuffles off to his bedroom. You follow wordlessly, entering in time to see him crawling into bed. Again, like you’d thought, his bed is pretty much separated from yours by just a wall.

He’s sitting in bed now, knees pulled to his chest. You hesitate before moving to sit cross-legged in front of him. He’s still crying. You don’t have to think to reach out and cup his cheeks, gently brushing the tears away with your thumbs. His eyes dart up to your face, clearly surprised. He’s so warm.

“...Tell me what’s wrong.”

He’s getting teary-eyed again almost instantly, and before you can blink, he’s throwing himself at you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face against your shoulder to cry. You’re more than a bit surprised, but it doesn’t take you longer than a few seconds to return his hug, rubbing his back as comfortingly as you can manage. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, Kat, I’ve got you.”

You keep up the quiet mumbling, saying whatever you can think of to calm him down. You still have no clue what happened to him, but he’s clearly pretty fucked up about it. You just want to make sure he’s okay.

After a moment, he’s pulling away from you, sniffling and wiping at his eyes. This time, he doesn’t start crying again. “Uh...sorry about that. I’m okay now, promise. So, uh, thanks…”

He’s looking at you like he wants you to leave, and you almost do, but you’d hate if something happened to him because you left too soon. So you make a big show of getting comfortable in his bed, then stare at him expectantly. “...So? Are you going to tell me what happened or what?”

He looks away, chewing his lip. When he doesn’t respond, you’re worried that you’re forcing him to talk about something he’s not comfortable sharing. That’s the last thing you want to do. You sigh and start to get up, but freeze when he darts forward and grabs your sleeve, staring at you with his jaw set. You sit back down.

He takes a deep breath and starts to speak. “Um...something happened at work. Remember how I told you I’m an assistant editor for that shit newspaper, Alternia Journal Constitution?”

“Yeah, I remember.” He’s looking at your face as he speaks, but he’s taking care to avoid your eyes. You remember your shades. Is he trying to avoid seeing his reflection in them? You pull them off, and sure enough, his eyes dart up to meet yours. “You keep telling me how much you hate it there.”

He snorts, a smile coming to his face for a split second before vanishing again. “Yeah, because I do. And it just keeps getting worse. I swear, they’re _this_ close to figuring out that I’m...y’know...”

“A mutant,” you supply. He flinches and looks away from you, nodding.

“...Someone left this newspaper article on my desk. I don’t know, I’m pretty sure it was fake or I would’ve heard about it before, but…”

He trails off. This is Karkat, who’ll yell at you in public about anything and everything, no matter how weird or taboo. It makes you sick to know that whatever he read has him so upset that he can’t even talk to you about it.

“...Karkat. Hey. Look at me. What is it?”

He stares down at the bedsheets for a moment before slowly raising his eyes to meet yours. He seems to be struggling to do even that. “Um...the article was about...assaults on mutant bloods. Something about a radical group trying to ‘purify’ what’s left of the troll species. And it was...pretty graphic.”

“Jesus…” It’s all you can think to say. Karkat’s looking away again. You wrap your arms around him again, pulling him towards you. You can feel his arms moving around you almost instantly. “I’m so sorry, Kat...but hey, like you said, the articles are probably fake. And even if they’re not, your moirail is a highblood. Trolls would have to have a real death wish to come after you, right?” He’s silent. “...Karkat?”

He pulls away, very clearly upset. You uncertainly place a hand on his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. “Hey, come on. Did I say something? Did I pronounce moirail wrong or something? Is that why you’re mad?”

He rolls his eyes, relaxing slightly. “You pronounced it fine. Just...okay, you have to promise you won’t tell Gamzee I said this.”

You raise your eyebrows, but nod. “Yeah, you got it, I won’t say anything. What, did he like, hurt you or something?”

“What? No! Why would you even think...actually, don’t tell me. I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t even say that.”

“Thanks.”

“Listen. Gamzee and I have been moirails forever. And I mean _forever,_ like, since we met. And in the past, he’s always been there for me, no matter what. But lately…? I don’t know what happened. It’s like he doesn’t have time for me anymore. If he needs something, I’m there for him, always, but more often than not, he’s not there for me. He’s reaping all of the benefits of moirallegiance, but not carrying any of the weight.”

You’re silent; you don’t even know what to say to that. Looking at them, you would’ve thought they were perfectly happy together. You’re inclined to tell him a thing or two about Gamzee, but somehow, you don’t think insulting his moirail would be the best course of action right now, so instead you cup his cheeks and pap him gently. “I swear to god, I’m not trying to hit on you in flushed or pale or blue or orange or any other colour of troll flirting. I just...I want you to be okay. So if anything even happens and you need help and can’t go to Gamzee for whatever reason, I’m here, okay?”

He looks so tired, eyelids drooping. He’s calmed down significantly since the start of your conversation, probably because of the papping, but you’d like to think that talking to him helped at least a little bit too. He nods, and you move your hands away from his face to let him lie down and tuck him in. He looks so fragile like this.

“I’m gonna sleep on the couch for tonight, okay? So I’ll be right there if anything happens.” He nods again, eyes fluttering shut. You shuffle out of the room quietly, wordlessly swearing that, no matter what, you’d be there for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder that I can't write Gam as a good person, oops. Comment to let me know your thoughts!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You hesitate. Something clearly happened to him. But it’s also clear that he’s not going to talk about it right now. He wants a distraction. He wants you to be that distraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Mild violence and offensive language at the beginning, smut at the end. I am so sorry.

You’ve always been a pretty light sleeper. Any sound that ‘doesn’t belong’ will wake you up, no matter how quiet. Which is why your eyes are fluttering open the instant you hear floorboards creaking.

At first, you think something must have happened to Karkat. Maybe he had a bad dream or something, and he was freaking out again? Except the sound was too stealthy to be coming from someone who was panicking, and it didn’t even come from the bedroom. No, that sounded like it was near the apartment’s entrance…

You sit up just in time to dodge someone diving at you. It’s still pretty dark, but the sun is starting to rise outside the windows, and you can make out a mess of black hair and long, curving horns.

You get to your feet as Gamzee dives at you again, growling. He looks much more alert than he had when you’d met him. His eyes are fixed on you, and he looks far from happy. When he swings his fist at you, you can’t quite dodge it in time, and end up with a shock of pain in your nose. You pinch it as you stumble back. It doesn’t feel broken, but it hurts like a bitch.

“What the _motherfuck_ are you doing in his house?” He’s literally growling at you, lips pulled away from his sharp teeth threateningly.

A sane person might be intimidated right now. Scared, even. But you just feel...angry. Karkat had said that moirails were supposed to be there to support each other, no matter what. Yet this asshole had ignored him when he so desperately needed to be comforted. That’s not something you can overlook. Your hands curl into fists as you speak. “Where the _fuck_ were you when he needed you, Makara? He fucking _needed you.”_

If Gamzee feels guilty at all about any of that, he doesn’t show it. In fact, it doesn’t even seem to register. He just looks like an angry wild animal.

He charges at you, and your ‘training’ with Bro kicks in. Gamzee may be taller and possibly stronger than you, but it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t really know how to fight. You duck out of his reach, driving your fist into his stomach. He coughs and doubles over, and you don’t miss a beat, bringing your elbow down hard on his back. He manages to grab one of your legs as he falls, yanking it out from under you. You narrowly avoid banging your head on the little coffee table before you hit the ground.

Gamzee’s back on his feet before you, and you have to roll to stop him from stomping on your head. You kick at his knees, and quickly roll to your feet when he stumbles. When he dives at you again, you sidestep, sending him tumbling into a table. He turns almost instantly and snaps at you with sharp teeth.

“What the _fuck_ are you two doing?”

You turn toward the source of the voice, and you see Gamzee do the same out of the corner of your eye. Karkat’s standing in the doorway of his bedroom, staring at the two of you in horror. His hair is messy from sleeping, and his eyes are puffy from crying. He looks so small. Seeing him like that makes you angry all over again.

You don’t really have a chance to reply before Gamzee’s storming towards the other, towering over him. You rush towards them, ready to throw yourself between the two, but Karkat holds up a hand to stop you. His eyes are locked on Gamzee’s. Both of them look furious.

“Where the fuck were you, Gamzee? Why didn’t you come when I called you?” He crosses his arms, voice calm even as his body stays rigid.

“I was out. Busy. You don’t motherfucking need to know the details.” Gamzee’s even worse at keeping his cool than Karkat. His voice is dripping with venom, and his whole body is taut with rage.

“Actually, if ‘the details’ stop you from doing your _fucking job_ as my moirail, then it kind of _is_ my business.” Karkat’s getting louder, clearly not happy with Gamzee’s excuse.

Gamzee seems to decide that he doesn’t want to have that particular conversation. “Care to explain why this _motherfucker_ was all up and sleepin’ on your motherfucking _couch?”_

Karkat takes a half step closer to Gamzee, having to look up to maintain eye contact with the other. _“Because you weren’t fucking there, Gam!_ This one time, more than ever, I needed you to be my fucking moirail. But you weren’t fucking there. Dave was.”

For a moment, the room is dead silent. You can literally hear everyone’s breathing. You could cut the tension in here with a knife.

Then Gamzee speaks, voice dangerously quiet. “...You motherfucking pale slut.”

Karkat looks like he was slapped. He visibly recoils, staring at Gamzee with anger and shock and hurt and a million other emotions dancing across his face.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so angry for someone else’s sake. You storm the last few steps over to them, grabbing Gamzee roughly by the neck of his T-shirt. _“How fucking_ dare _you? You take that shit back right now, you selfish prick!”_

“...Dave. Let him go.” You glance back at Karkat, who’s still holding eye contact with Gamzee. You can’t quite make out what that expression on his face is. His voice is so quiet.

“What? No fucking way. He just-”

“I _said_ let him go.” His voice is just as quiet this time, but maybe a little more firm. You’re still more than a bit reluctant, but something about the look on Karkat’s face makes you feel like he knows what he’s doing. You glare at Gamzee and finally push him away. He barely moves back, giving Karkat one last, unreadable look, then finally turns and leaves the room.

The second he’s out the door, your gaze flicks to Karkat. He’s just standing there, staring at nothing in particular. You’re pretty sure he’s shaking. You place a gentle hand on his shoulder. It seems to take him a moment to focus on your face.

“...Your nose is bleeding.” You wipe under your nose with the back of your hand. Sure enough, it comes away smeared red. He cringes slightly at the sight of your blood and looks away, guiding you to the couch to take a seat. He sits next to you, eyeing your nose with a frown.He seems to hesitate before gently pinching down your nose. You flinch slightly, but try to hold your ground, staring at him. “It doesn’t feel broken...I’ll go get you some tissue and something cold to put on it.”

He starts to get to his feet, but you grab his arm, stopping him. “...Are you okay?”

He stares at you in silence for a moment before pulling his arm away and getting to his feet. “I’m fine.” That’s it. He doesn’t bother elaborating, instead just leaving the room. He’s back not long after, handing you a box of tissues and an ice pack. “Lean forward and hold that on the bridge of-”

“I know how to deal with nosebleeds, Kat.” You push a wad of tissues under your nose, leaning forward until your elbows are resting on your thighs. Then, you press the ice pack to the bridge of your nose. A moment passes in tense silence before you speak again. “Listen, that whole thing back there was...kinda intense. If you need to talk about it or something-”

He cuts you off abruptly. “I _said_ I’m fine. Just...forget any of that even happened.” It’s not a request; his tone leaves no room for arguing. You drop back into silence as you wait for the pain in your nose and the tension between the two of you to subside.

 

* * *

 

The next time you talk to Karkat, it’s two days later, when you both find yourselves at the top of the stairs, heading down. Neither of you says anything for the first flight, but the silence becomes too much for you by the second.

“...Hey.”

Karkat pauses before replying, like he hadn’t been prepared for you to even greet him. “Hey. Um...how’s your nose doing?”

“It’s good, it’s good. Should be back to normal in no time.”

“That’s good. Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

There’s another uncomfortable lapse in conversation. When had it gotten this hard to talk to him? You sigh loudly through your nose and try again. “Kat, listen, about what happened the other night-”

“It’s not important.” That’s all he says as he cuts you off, stubbornly looking anywhere but at you.

You frown at him. “Not important? That whole situation was pretty fucked up, Kat.”

He’s still refusing to look at you, which is starting to make you a bit worried. Then he opens his mouth, and everything is explained in the worst way possible. “Yeah, it was. But I talked it over with Gamzee, and he says he forgives me, so it’s not important.”

You freeze, staring at him for a moment. When he goes on walking like he hasn’t even noticed, you grab his arm and turn him to face you. He doesn’t look happy about it, but he isn’t pulling away, at least. His gaze is fixed on the floor.

 _“He_ forgives _you?_ What the fuck, he’s the one who should be _begging_ for forgiveness. Karkat, he called you a-”

“I am well aware of what he called me, _thank you.”_ His eyes finally dart up to your face; he looks angry. “And he was right. What I did was so... _so_ fucked up.”

“What _you_ did?”

“I fucking _cheated_ on him, Dave! I fucking cheated on him _with you!”_

You’re starting to get a bit irritated now too. Does he seriously not realize that he’s not the one in the wrong here? You struggle to keep your voice even. “Karkat, what the _fuck_ are you...we didn’t fucking _do_ anything. And even if we had, it wouldn’t be an excuse for him to use that word.”

“Are you seriously incapable of wrapping your pathetic human mind around the concept that _maybe_ troll relationships are more complicated than just the physical?” He jerks his arm away from you, storming off down the stairs before you can get another word in.

 

* * *

 

You’re a mess at work a few hours later. You don’t even know how many drinks you’ve had by now, and your fingers are sloppy on your turntables.

You’ve put some pre-recorded beats on so you can go get another drink. One of the perks of working here is that the booze is free for you, so why shouldn’t you take advantage of that on a shit night like tonight?

Meenah makes her way over to you, her fuschia painted lips pursed. She eyes you cautiously before speaking with an accent sounding vaguely Jersey-ish. “Hey, D-Stri. Uh...how’s it hangin?”

You scoff, leaning against the bar and taking a sip of your shitty apple vodka before responding. “With me? Great. Super.”

“You shore about that?” she questions, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. “‘Cause you kinda seem like you’d rather be swimming with the fishes than here. If someone’s buggin’ you, say the word and you _know_ I’ll stab a beach.”

“Fuck, no, it’s…” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. What even is it? “...Can I ask you something maybe personal? Like, about quadrant shit?”

Whatever she’d been expecting you to say, it wasn’t that. She shifts slightly, crossing her arms. “Uh...shore? Whaddya wanna know?”

You’re not sure where to even start. “Okay, so like, pretend you have a mwa...more...moirail, right?”

“I do actually have a moirail but yes, go on.”

“Right, so like, if they were having an emotional crisis or whatever, any you couldn’t be there for whatever reason, or just didn’t go to help them, and they went to someone else for help, how would you feel about that?”

Meenah pauses, seeming to consider the question before shrugging. “Well, firstly, I’m no expert or anything, but I think a good moray eel would drop everything if their partner needed somefin. Moirallegiance is one of the most important quadrants. Like, it can literally be the difference between whether or not you go all Jaws on someone. That being said, if Cronus went to someone else for a hardcore feelin’s jam, I’d be pretty fuckin’ pissed. I’d understand, yeah, but that shit fuckin hurts.”

You’re silent for a moment as you process that. Finally, you groan, slumping over against the bar’s counter. You may have possibly fucked up royally.

 

* * *

 

You’d like to think you recovered from the whole ‘Karkat’ situation pretty well. A full week has passed since you’d heard him crying in his room. The bruise on your nose is all but gone now. And, true, neither of you have spoken to one another since he’d yelled at you about moirallegiance on the stairs, but it worked out pretty peacefully that way, so you aren’t too upset about it. Even if you do miss him.

You’ve just gotten home from a particularly irritating night of work. You’re sweaty and tired and want nothing more than to sleep. You’ll shower after a nap, definitely. That’s not gross at all.

You plop down in bed, and are just starting to get comfy when you hear someone banging on your door. You groan, rolling over. For a moment, you’re tempted to ignore it, but you can’t sleep while that’s going on. And besides, judging by the volume and consistency, you think you know who it is. Seriously, he sounds like he’s trying to break your fucking door down.

Huffing, you get to your feet and move to the door, pulling it open. You barely have time to register that _yes, this is indeed Karkat_ before his lips are pressing almost bruisingly hard against yours.

You’d like to say you immediately reciprocated, dipping him into a kiss like in his shit rom coms. You’d like to say that, but it’s not true. In reality, you kind of just dumbly stand there, trying to figure out why the fuck he was doing this and what the appropriate reaction was supposed to be. After a few seconds of this, Karkat makes an irritated sound against your lips and pulls away.

Well. You’re awake now.

Your brain finally catches up to the present as he glowers up at you, looking somewhere between irritated, distressed, and embarrassed. His hands are planted firmly on your shoulders, and it vaguely occurs to you that he’d probably had to get onto his toes or something to kiss you. But none of that is important, because you’ve spotted the dark bruise on his left cheekbone, and now that’s the only thing that matters.

You cup his cheeks gently, studying the injury. “Holy shit...what happened? Are you okay? Who did this?”

Evidently, concern wasn’t what he wanted from you, because he scowls, guiding your hands away from his cheeks and down to his hips instead. “Shut the fuck up and kiss me.” And then his lips are on yours again.

You hesitate. Something clearly happened to him. But it’s also clear that he’s not going to talk about it right now. He wants a distraction. He wants you to be that distraction.

Finally, you reciprocate the kiss. He seems to relax against you as you do, leaning further into you. You lean down a bit to take some of the strain off of him and tug his hips towards you, reveling in the soft sound of surprise he makes against your lips.

He’s so ridiculously warm. And there’s still so many layers of clothes between you. You want to feel his skin. Want to know how warm it is inside his mouth. You run your tongue over his bottom lip, and don’t hesitate to slip it into his mouth when he parts his lips to gasp.

You’d been prepared for his mouth to be hot, but there’s a weird intensity to the heat you hadn’t quite anticipated. It’s like the burn of alcohol, without the bitterness. In fact, he’s oddly sweet; his mouth tastes like honey and sugar and ice cream, all with the subtle undertone of coffee. You’re hungry to drink in the uniqueness of it all, your tongue curiously brushing the roof of his mouth and scraping the backs of his teeth. They’re dull for troll standards, but actually sharper than you’d expected them to be.

Your tongue finally tangles with his, and he lets out this needy half-moan into your mouth, and suddenly, just kissing him isn’t enough anymore. You slip your hands around to his ass, drawing a sharp gasp from his lips. You take advantage of the opportunity to feel his ass, trying to get an idea of what it might look like under those baggy jeans he always wears, and, shit, you want his pants off _now._

You pull him inside without breaking the kiss, nudging the door shut with your foot. Then the entirety of your focus is back on him, and you’re lifting him off the ground, guiding one of his legs around your waist with one hand. The other leg follows suit, and you support him by hooking your hands under his thighs and backing him into a wall, maybe a bit more quickly than you’d meant to. He inhales sharply as his back hits the wall, and he seems to jolt into awareness of his position, suddenly coming to life against you.

He leans into you, his tongue pushing against yours as if fighting for dominance. You chuckle into his mouth, pressing him a bit more firmly into the wall to make sure he doesn’t fall, then reaching up with one hand to rub your thumb and forefinger over one of his horns, from base to tip and back down again. He fucking _mewls,_ rolling his hips against you, and wow, _have your pants always been this tight?_

You return your hand to its position under his thigh and back away from the wall, blindly carrying him over to your bed. You finally break the kiss, half-tossing Karkat into your bed. He yelps softly as he lands, bouncing before falling still, glaring up at you. His face has started to take on a reddish tint, making the bruise on his cheek stand out even more sharply. You take a moment to compose yourself before speaking - even then, you can’t keep the slight tremor out of your voice. “We should...probably stop here. I don’t think you’re thinking straight right now.”

Karkat doesn’t like that line of thought. He narrows his eyes, glancing down at your pants before returning his gaze to your face. “You don’t actually want to stop, so don’t stop.” He half-growls the words, but there’s no denying that his voice is shaking at least as much as yours is. He crawls closer to you, getting to his knees and pulling your shades off. “I know _exactly_ what I want right now.”

The ounce of restriction you’d been clinging onto withers up and dies when you see the look in his eyes. You groan, pushing him back down in the bed and climbing in after him, hovering just above him. He seems pleased with this, which he lets you know by leaning up to press feather-light kisses along your jaw. You let out a shaky breath, which changes to a sharp inhale as you feel one of his thighs move between your legs.

You finally slip a hand under his sweater, fingers splaying against his bare stomach. His skin is so feverishly warm, in all the best ways possible. You feel him tense briefly beneath you, lips pausing on your skin. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or not, so you begin to pull away, but he’s pressing his leg up between your thighs before you can get anywhere, and fuck if you’re leaving while he’s doing that.

You trail his hand up his stomach, pushing the sweater up as you go. Catching a flash of red out of the corner of your eye, you shift your hand further to the side, brushing your fingers over one of his grub scars. He lets out this soft moan against your skin, fingers curling on the bed sheets, and you figure that’s enough foreplay. You’re getting impatient to see what other sounds you can get him to make.

You pull away from him to straddle his hips, noting the way his eyes flutter open to stare at you, unfocused. You huff, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, attempting to hold eye contact with him as you do to make sure this is still okay, but he doesn’t seem to get that message, gaze turned up to the ceiling and face red. You let out a huff of air as you get onto your knees to tug his pants and boxers off.

His eyes, half-lidded and hazy, are back on you as you return to straddling him. You’d been with trolls before, you knew what to expect, but he’s just so _red._ You didn’t notice when his bulge had slipped out, but it was out, and apparently trying to tie itself in knots. Just below it, his nook is already a wet mess of genetic material. It would seem his body agreed with you about getting impatient.

You let out a shuddering breath and shift down a bit, watching carefully for Karkat’s reaction as you take his bulge in one hand, letting it squirm in your grip. A soft cry of pleasure pushes past his lips, lasting only a few brief seconds before he bites it off. That one. You want to hear that one again.

You keep your eyes on him as you push a finger into him, watching as he clenches his fists in the sheets with another soft cry. He’s even hotter here than his mouth. It should be uncomfortably heated, but it’s not, _god, it’s not._

His eyes squeeze shut as you curl your finger, but you can’t do much more than that before he grabs your wrist, barely able to speak as he pants. _“Don’t.”_

You furrow your eyebrows, not quite understanding. “It could hurt you if I don’t do this,” you explain, watching as he struggles to get his eyes open and lock onto yours.

“That’s the _point.”_

You frown. You don’t want to hurt him, even if that seems to be what he wants. Did he come to you for some kind of fucked up form of punishment?

You clench your jaw. You’re not going to take the risk of hurting him. You’re not. But you don’t want to do anything he says no to either. You pull your finger out of him. If he doesn’t want it, you’re not doing it.

Karkat shivers and sighs, letting his gaze turn back up to the ceiling. You stare at him for a moment before unbuttoning and unzipping your own jeans, fishing yourself out of your boxers. Karkat’s eyes have returned to your face, waiting.

You know he wants a distraction, and you can give that to him without fucking him. You gently squeeze his bulge once, twice, watching as he tenses and moans, eyes squeezing shut. Then you’re guiding his bulge to your dick and releasing it, letting it do its thing.

Karkat inhales sharply, eyes snapping open. Evidently, this was not what he’d expected, but it doesn’t look like he isn’t enjoying it. It’s your turn to moan as his bulge squeezes around you. He’s not unaffected either, hips twitching towards you as he hikes his legs around your waist.

You pull him up into a sitting position, partially because you suspect that’ll be more comfortable for both of you, but mostly because it makes it easier to slip a hand under his sweater and rub at his grub scars, getting him to arch his back and clench his thighs around you, crying out in pleasure as he does. Not to be outdone, he latches his mouth onto your neck, covering it with hot kisses. You groan, thrusting up against him instinctively, earning you another cry of pleasure before he sucks a mark onto your neck.

You lose track of your thoughts quickly. You keep thrusting up aimlessly against him, and he’s squeezing you in all the right ways, and fuck, fuck, you can’t think like this. He’s babbling against your skin now, saying your name and something that sounds like ‘shuck it’ over and over - you can’t hear him clearly over the roaring of blood in your ears - but you have no clue what it means or what he wants, and besides, you can’t stop now to figure it out, you’re close, you’re so close…

Karkat’s fingers curl around your arms, squeezing so hard that his claws bite into your skin, drawing blood. His entire body goes rigid, legs and bulge clenching around you as he makes this half-choked moan against your neck. You feel wet heat spilling into your lap, and fuck, you can probably never wear these jeans again, but you can worry about that later, you’re on a fucking time limit now.

Your thrusts gain speed as Karkat slowly comes down from his climax. His bulge pulses slightly around you, and after a few more thrusts, you find your toes curling as you release with an embarrassing cry that you’ll absolutely never admit to in your life.

Karkat’s bulge uncurls from around you, lazily slipping back into its sheathe. You pull your hands off of him reluctantly, and he collapses against your bed, panting as he tries to catch his breath. If you’d been tired before he got here, you’re exhausted now. But you still have a bit more work to do. You mumble an excuse as you get to your feet and wander into the bathroom. A bit later, you’re back with a damp rag, which you use to clean Karkat up. He whimpers and whines that he can do it himself, but never actually moves to stop you. You need to change the bedsheets too, but that can wait until morning, even if it means the stains will absolutely never get out. You can live with that.

You return to the bathroom and clean yourself up, washing out the rag and heading back to your room. Karkat’s already passed out in your bed. You roll your eyes with a slight smile as you climb into bed next to him, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him to your chest. That night, you fall asleep in record time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus Christ I'm bad at this. If the cringe didn't kill you, please comment to let me know your thoughts on this chapter. Bless.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You frown and prop yourself up on one elbow to watch him tug his jeans on. “Kat, you know we need to talk about what happened last night. And I mean more than just between you and me. Your face is -”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for mentions of abuse and self loathing.

You’re pulled into consciousness as you hear your bed’s springs whining, then feel the temperature drop about fifteen degrees. The days are starting to turn shorter, colder, and you don’t appreciate your heater leaving you. You groan and roll onto your back, opening your eyes. And there’s Karkat Vantas, mumbling to himself as he sits on the edge of your bed and grabs his boxers off of the floor.

You whine and wrap your arms around his middle, which gets him to make this squeaky little yelp of surprise. You chuckle at the sound, tugging him towards you. “Just drop the boxers and go back to sleep…”

He huffs, squirming easily out of your purposely loose grip and getting to his feet, pulling his boxers on as he goes. “I have school today. Classes start in an hour, so I have to get going. Maybe some other time. Sorry.”

You frown and prop yourself up on one elbow to watch him tug his jeans on. “Kat, you know we need to talk about what happened last night. And I mean more than just between you and me. Your _face_ is -”

He cuts you off abruptly. “Dave, I have _school._ I do _not_ intend to work at AJC forever, so I’d kind of like to get my degree and get the fuck out of there.” You frown and look away, listening to the sound of fabric rustling as he hurriedly gets dressed. After a moment, you hear him sigh. “...Listen, I’ll swing by after classes and then we can talk about whatever you want, okay? I just don’t have the time right now.”

You glance up at him. He’s standing by the door now, hand on the knob, and staring at you like he’s waiting for some kind of response before he leaves. You manage to flash him a slight smile and nod. “Yeah, alright, sounds perfect. It’s a date, then.”

He doesn’t look quite certain, but offers a shadow of a smile, nods, and hurries out the door.

You flop back down on your bed with a sigh. All you can think about now is Karkat. You’re worried about him. He was acting so weird last night. And yeah, sure, being with him like that had been nice, but you know it was just a distraction. You know he’s not just magically okay now.

You don’t really have anything to do today, so you try to find a way to pass the time without thinking about Karkat. After failing to not think about him while you eat, shower and change your sheets, you finally manage to distract yourself by mixing some new songs. You’ve been meaning to get some work done on your mixing anyway. You want to refine your sound. Something less like a summer hit that you’d listen to on loop for a week and never again. You want something with more meaning than that. You want music that means something to you. You think you’re in a good headspace to write something like that right now.

Mixing music always helps to keep your mind clear. Keeps your hands busy too. Making music has always been a good distraction for you. In fact, it’s such a good distraction that you don’t even look up until you hear what you believe is Karkat’s door closing hours later.

You frown, song forgotten as you sit up. Hadn’t he said he’d come over after his classes? You find yourself immediately getting worried before having to remind yourself that you’re probably overthinking things. Unlike you, he’s been out all day, and he didn’t really get a chance to wash up after last night. He probably just wants to get cleaned up before coming over. Yeah. That’s it.

Well, that’s what you tell yourself. It gets harder to believe after an hour and a half goes by. He’d gotten ready so quickly that time the two of you had gone out for coffee. There was absolutely no way he was still in the shower. So why hadn’t he come by?

Maybe he’d forgotten about it. Yeah, that made sense. It’d just slipped his mind. You decide to go over to his place to check on him, just in case. If he’s up for it, maybe you’ll just stay and talk things over with him. Nodding decisively, you get to your feet, not even bothering to put on shoes as you make the short trek to his apartment and knock on the door.

For a moment, you don’t hear anything but silence. It only takes a few seconds for you to jump through a few of the worst possible conclusions. Then you hear light footsteps approaching the door. Moments later, it’s being pulled open, and there’s Karkat on the other side, staring up at you in surprise. “...Oh. Hey.”

“Hey. Uh, thought you were gonna come over to talk.” He’s clearly safe, so you don’t know why you still feel so nervous. A quick glance over him confirms that you were at least right about him stopping to take a shower; his hair’s damp, and he’s changed his clothes. Seeing that he’s wearing a T-shirt and jeans instead of his usual oversized sweater makes you suspect that he wasn’t really expecting to be around anyone.

“Oh, right, shit, that, uh, totally slipped my mind.” He shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably. Something about the way he said that makes you doubt his honesty, but you won’t call him out on it for now. It’s not like you even really know whether or not he’s lying. “Listen, um, I’m actually kind of in the middle of something, and if I don’t finish it now I’ll probably forget to later and then I’ll just look like an idiot, so I -”

“What are you doing?” you interrupt. He blinks, then hesitates, looking almost sheepish. You go on. “I mean, maybe I can help you get it done faster, then we can talk. I mean, clearly, you don’t want to talk about whatever, and I get that, but I really think it’s important. Like, personally, I’ve spent a lot of time not talking about my shit and let me tell you, it can fuck a person up pretty bad to keep that shit bottled up and -”

“I’m painting my claws.” Karkat cuts you off before you can keep going and probably embarrass both of you. “And if you really really want to, I guess you can come in and do it? I know it doesn’t really sound like something you’d be into, but, uh, if you want…”

He trails off and glances away. He seems just as nervous about this whole encounter as you are. It helps put you a bit more at ease. You nod. “Yeah, sure. Sounds like fun. And we can talk, right?”

“...Right.” Karkat nods with a sheepish smile and moves out of the doorway, letting you in. Now that his arms aren’t hidden behind the door and the wall, you can see that both of them are ringed with dark bruises, though the ones an his right arm are darker than the ones on his left. You stare at them in horror for a moment before tearing your gaze away. Karkat has evidently noticed that you saw the bruises, and he doesn’t look happy that you saw them. He’s not looking at you as he crosses his arms defensively. “...It’ll come up when we talk. Come on.”

You follow him wordlessly into his apartment, trying not to stare at his bruises. You don’t want to upset him. But what happened? How did they get there? You don't recall having been rough at all last night...

He leads you to the couch in his living room where you’d slept only a week ago and takes a seat, looking at you expectantly. When you sit next to him, you notice a few bottles of nail polish on the coffee table. There are also a few discarded cotton balls with dark purple polish staining them. Come to think of it, that’s the colour Karkat had been wearing yesterday, wasn’t it? It hadn’t been chipped or anything; why was he taking it off?

Evidently, he seems to know what you’re thinking. “Gamzee’s a purple blood. Purple’s his colour. Trolls do this thing where we paint our claws in the colours of our quadrantmates. Kind of like...an act of endearment, I guess. Usually it’s something you do with your moirail. Occasionally matesprits do it too, but then they’re more likely to be all flowery with it and add heart stickers and things like that. So, anyway, um…” He puts his hands on your knees. Two of his claws have been painted white. “White is for, uh. It means...empty quadrants.”

You turn your gaze upwards, away from his hands and towards his face. He’s still staring down at his claws, looking miserable. When he doesn’t say anything else, you pick up his white nail polish, shaking it and carefully beginning to paint his claws. “...Start at the beginning. Whenever you’re ready.”

Karkat’s silent for a moment. Then, finally, he takes a shaky breath and begins. “It’s, um. I had a kind of rough day at work yesterday. Which is whatever, I’m fine, but I wanted to vent about it at the time, so, um...last night, before I came to see you, I went to see Gamzee.” You’re careful to keep quiet. Already, he sounds like he’s getting worked up. You know this story’s going to spiral downwards fast. “He, um, he was sober, and like, he’s never sober? I thought...I don’t know, I thought he was trying to change. Get his life together, you know? I thought he’d listen to me. But he _didn’t_ listen, he just...I don’t know, he started saying some _really_ weird stuff about how he didn’t want you near me and how he’s the only one who can...Dave, he was trying to get with me in _red.”_

You freeze, silent. It’s only after several seconds of tense silence that you speak again, barely keeping your feelings in check. “And what did you say…?”

“What did I…?” Karkat mumbles, seeming exasperated. “I said I don’t see him that way. He’s practically a brother to me. Always has been. Nothing more.” You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and go back to painting his claws. He continues. “So...after I said no to red, he, um...he tried to force his way into a black relationship.”

Your head jerks up as you tense, and the nail polish is most definitely on Karkat’s finger now, but you don’t care. “He did _what?!”_ Karkat visibly flinches away from you. You take a breath and remind yourself that Karkat’s not the one you’re angry at before speaking again, barely more controlled. “He didn’t...make you _do_ anything, did he?”

This time, Karkat is the one to tense, but he looks more offended than upset or uncomfortable. “What? No! Of course not! Do you think he would...do you think _I_ would come to you after...no, Dave. He pushed me around for a bit, but he didn’t do anything...like that. He’s not like that”

You take a few calming breaths. Okay. Okay, things could be a lot worse. All things considered, Karkat actually got pretty lucky.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself to try to calm down. It’s not really working, though. You’re furious. That fucking asshole hurt Karkat. He was the reason for all of those bruises. He had done this, and he was getting away with it.

“You’re not going after him, Dave.” Karkat’s voice is quiet. When you focus your attention on him, you can see that he’s staring down at his lap.

“You’re not seriously protecting that asshole, are you? After he hurt you like he did?”

“I just...it’s not worth it. I broke things off with him already, so just leave him be.”

You can feel his hands shaking in your lap. It’s almost terrifying to you, how familiar all of this is. It’s just like you’re thirteen again, realizing for the first time that your brother was fucked up. You’re staring at Karkat, who you know can hold his own, but now looks so frail and delicate, but you’re seeing yourself. You can see him trying to find a reason, trying to deny it; you can’t let him do that to himself. Not like you did for too many years.

“Karkat? Talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Karkat is silent for a moment. You don’t push him. He’ll talk when he’s ready. “...It’s been _sweeps_ since the last time he painted my claws.”

That’s what pushes him over. You can see tears spilling out of his eyes, and you don’t even have to think to put the nail polish aside and scoot closer, wrapping your arms around him. You can feel him trembling as he does the same, fingers curling to grip the back of your shirt. He’s gasping and sobbing as he goes on.

“He used to do it for me _every weekend._ Then he started showing up less and less and...I-I couldn’t figure out what I was doing wrong. I _know_ he’s a highblood, and I’m a mutant, but I thought he didn’t care about that. I know I’ve always been lucky to have someone like him as my moirail, but of course my fucking garbage blood would make him hate me too. Fucking disgusting, filthy, _freak-”_

At first, you let him ramble, just rubbing his back and trying to hush him. When he starts with the name-calling, though, you have to pull away and grip his shoulders, shaking him slightly. “Hey. _Hey.”_ It seems to take him a moment to fix his eyes on you, but you move your hands to his cheeks to gently wipe away his tears once he does. “You stop that right now. Stop using those lies on yourself. Because that’s what they are. Lies. There’s nothing wrong with you, _or_ your blood. You are beautiful, and smart, and patient, and kind, and _perfect-”_

 _“No I’m not!”_ He half-screams, half-sobs the words. You almost feel like you’re hurting him by telling him this. But he needs to hear it. He tries to look away, and you guide his gaze right back to yours.

 _“Yes, you are._ And you need to know that. You need to know that what happened with Gamzee wasn’t your fault.” He squeezes his eyes shut and sobs, and you let go of him so he can slump against your shoulder once more. You resume your backrubs, speaking to him as gently as you can. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

You can barely feel him nod.

 

* * *

 

In all honesty, you’re probably the biggest idiot you’ve ever met.

Like, really, you’ve been around for long enough that you _should_ know that a single hook-up and a couple of feelings-jams doesn’t mean you’re automatically dating someone. It doesn’t even mean that there are necessarily those kinds of feelings present. And you’ve been around Karkat for long enough to know that feelings-stuff was more viewed as friendly than romantic.

So how the fuck did you get yourself to think you were dating Karkat Vantas?

When you think about it, you feel like the signs were so clear. The way you two interacted hadn’t really changed much. He’d never let you hold his hand, or take him anywhere nicer than the cafe near your apartment, or pay for things for him. You’d assumed he just wanted to feel more independent or something, so you never said anything or pushed too hard.

Until you did.

God, it had been so stupid. You’d been with him at your usual spot at A Brewed Awakening, the aforementioned cafe that had kind of become your go-to hang out spot. You don’t remember what you’d said, but you _do_ remember the sound of his laugh, loud and bright. You remember the way he’d smiled when he looked across the table at you. You remember leaning across the table to kiss him, and how he’d very awkwardly put a hand on your face and said, “No.”

The saddest part? Even _then,_ you didn’t really get the message. You’d just assumed he wasn’t comfortable with PDA or some shit. You’d walked him back to his apartment and leaned in to try for a kiss once more. Again, he stopped you, this time with a hand on your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him looking less comfortable around you.

“Dave, listen. This was nice. _You’re_ nice. And I like hanging out with you. Really, I do. It’s great to have someone to talk to again. But the thing is, um, things are kinda weird for me right now, and I don’t want...whatever it is we have to get too weird or serious. Can we just...keep things the way they are?”

You remember being stunned. Embarrassed, even. You had nodded sheepishly, and neither of you ever spoke about the nature of your relationship ever again.

And what a fucking relationship it is.

You’d joked with Karkat before about ‘rails with pails’, but honestly, if you had to sum up this relationship with one description, it’d be that. You go to each others apartments all the time and just talk for hours on end. If either of you needs to vent or something, the other’s always there with a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on, if need be. You go on friend dates for coffee or to the movies all the time. Sometimes, you’ll spend the night at his apartment, or he’ll spent the night at yours, and you’ll just hold each other and sleep. Other times, if you’re both up for it, you’ll _sleep together,_ rather than just sleep together.

But hey, you’re not complaining. You have nothing to complain about. This is great. You get to hook up with your cute neighbor virtually whenever you want, and you can still talk to him as friends, all without putting some label on the relationship. Sure, sometimes you think about what it’d be like to introduce him to your friends as ‘your boyfriend’. Sometimes, you think it might be nice to hold his hand or kiss his face or tell him just how perfect he is; how much you adore him. And maybe every now and then, when you’re painting his claws white to show his ‘empty quadrants’, you’re tempted to instead paint them _your_ colour. You wonder what it would be like for him to actually be yours, and you to be his, and have him be comfortable with that, even _proud_ of it.

That...didn’t quite come out how you wanted it to.

In all seriousness, you were fine with this relationship. Yeah, maybe it wasn’t perfect, but there were plenty of advantages with it. You get to spend so much more time with him. You get to see him laugh and smile and joke around. You get to listen to him talking about the things he’s passionate about; mostly romcoms and writing and how bullshit the hemospectrum is. You get to help him through his worst days, and have him there to help you through yours. You get to learn so much more about him, and his past. He likes to tell you about troll culture and history. You’d never admit it, but you love learning about it. You especially like the way he tells it, all energetic and caught up like he’s living in the moment he’s describing. He’s a good speaker, you think.

You get to see so much more of his life. Sometimes, that scares you. He’s less put together than you’d thought when you’d met him. He doesn’t sleep most nights, or sleeps very little. He tells you he’s always had trouble sleeping, for as long as he can remember. Sometimes, when you do get him to settle down and go to sleep, he just wakes up two or three hours later, freaking out over some nightmare or another. It always takes you a while to calm him down. It doesn’t help that he absolutely refuses to tell you what the nightmares are about. It’s one of the only things he won’t ever talk to you about.

If you had to take a wild guess, you’d say it was probably something about his blood. You know that his mutation is something he spends a lot of time worrying about. As much as he insists that it doesn’t bother him that badly, you know it does.

You remember waking up in his room at four or five in the morning to the distant sound of sobs. When you’d followed the sound to its source, you’d found Karkat in the bathroom, hunched over the sink and staring at his reflection. You’d known exactly what he’d been looking at; the colour of his eyes had been filling in quickly over the last few weeks. They were now mottled an undeniably bright red. You both knew it wouldn’t be long before the grey would be gone completely. You’d tried offering to buy him a pair of shades he could use to hide his eyes like you had for majority of your life, and still do, when you’re not comfortable, but he just shakes his head and tells you that it wouldn’t help. You know he’s right.

His blood colour was another one of the topics he didn’t talk about.

In your time with him, you’ve noticed quite a few scars on his body. He says he’s never intentionally cut himself, and you believe him. Mostly, you believe him because he comes home with some new injury or another almost every week. It’s the third and final thing he refuses to talk about. When you try to ask him about them, he gives you some vague or hard to believe answer like “I fell down the stairs” or “I wasn’t paying attention and walked into a wall”. Honestly, you’d bought it the first few times, even jokingly ‘warning him about the stairs’ like in those brilliantly dumb webcomics you’d written as a teen, but when it kept happening, it got harder and harder to believe him. You know for a fact that he’s not that clumsy. Sometimes, he doesn’t even answer your questions, he just changes the subject or tries to distract you.

You try not to pry. The injuries are usually pretty minor, and it wasn’t like you could force him to talk about it if he really didn’t want to, so you stop questioning him, instead just trying your best to patch him up when it happens and warning him to be more careful. He always promises that he will, but still turns up injured semi-regularly.

You’re worried about him. There’s no denying just how worried you are. But you know you can’t magically make his life perfect, as much as you wish you could. Even if that was an option, would it be the right one?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahah, I earnestly wish I was sorry. I might feel guilty if y'all let me know what you thought of this chapter in the comments, though, so be sure to do that!
> 
> (Also if you didn't know I have a [tumblr](https://lilithwiththefanfics.tumblr.com/) for my fics now, so go over there and ask me stuff if you want! I'd be happy to answer.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get to Heat and Clockwork about five minutes earlier than you’d agreed to meet with Karkat. You get there maybe five minutes earlier than you’d told Karkat to meet you, but that’s fine. If he saw where this place was and you weren’t here, he’d probably leave. You needed to be here early.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 10:43 –-

 

TG: hey     
TG: i need to talk to you about something  
TG: and its really really really important so id appreciate if we could skip the part where we shit around for hours and inevitably forget what it was we needed to talk about  
TT: Yes, it’s nice to talk to you too, Dave.  
TT: I must say, I am quite impressed to see that you’re awake before noon.  
TT: I’m actually quite curious as to what brought this change on, though I suspect you’ll reveal the answer during the course of this conversation.  
TG: you see rose  
TG: this is exactly what i meant  
TG: this whole bullshit thing where we babble on forever about the stupidest fake shit  
TG: its kind of a waste of time you know  
TT: That’s not something I’d ever expected to hear from you.  
TT: I’ll go ahead and assume from now that this conversation is going to be about a boy?  
TG: rose seriously just let me talk for a sec  
TG: its about a boy  
TG: wait  
TG: how did you know that  
TT: Call it a hunch.  
TT: Go on then, what’s the problem?  
TG: okay right  
TG: so this really cute troll boy moved in next door  
TG: im not at liberty to say that much about his situation or his past or anything and even if i could it would take forever  
TG: the short version is that were kinda fuck buddies now  
TT: I’m...not sure I understand the problem?  
TG: the problem is that i actually really like him  
TG: like i like like him  
TG: like i want to hold his hand and kiss his face and do gross coupley stuff like you and kanaya  
TT: In other words, you want a more meaningful relationship with him.  
TG: yeah that  
TG: so what do i do here  
TT: Have you tried telling him how you feel?  
TG: woah there rose lets not get crazy here  
TT: Alright, try taking him out on a date, then.  
TT: Nothing too fancy, I think.  
TT: Oh, try taking him to your club.  
TT: Let him see you doing something you’re passionate about. That usually works.  
TG: okay right good plan  
TG: just one problem  
TG: he wont let me take him anywhere  
TT: Then surprise him. Tell him to just meet you there.  
TG: alright that could work i think  
TG: thanks rose  
TT: Of course. Now, if you’ll excuse me.

 

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 10:57 --

 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 10:58 --

 

TG: karkat  
TG: dude are you there  
CG: DAVE, YOU KNOW I CAN’T TALK RIGHT NOW, I’M AT WORK.  
TG: yeah i know man ill make it quick  
TG: can you meet me at 2259 oak street tonight at nine  
CG: WHY?  
TG: its a surprise  
TG: come on please  
TG: i promise youll have fun  
CG: ...FINE. I’LL BE THERE, I GUESS.  
CG: I HAVE TO GO, MY BOSS IS COMING.

 

\--  carcinoGeneticist  [ CG ] ceased pestering  turntechGodhead  [ TG ] at 11:02 --

 

* * *

 

You get to Heat and Clockwork about five minutes earlier than you’d agreed to meet with Karkat. You get there maybe five minutes earlier than you’d told Karkat to meet you, but that’s fine. If he saw where this place was and you weren’t here, he’d probably leave. You needed to be here early.

You’re not working tonight, which is perfect; you’ll be able to spend plenty of time with Karkat, and probably still be able to get a turn DJing, so he can see you in your element.

He pulls up in a cab about ten minutes later. He’s already scowling as he gets out of the vehicle and storms over to you. He’s wearing an oversized grey hoodie and jeans — not exactly clubbing clothes. Maybe you should have given him a dress code. Either way, it’s fine, you had prepared for this possibility.

You’re distracted from this train of thought as he stomps right up to you, jabbing his finger in your chest. “What the _fuck_ is this, Dave.”

“Uh. it’s a club.”

Bad time to make jokes. Karkat bares his nubby fangs at you, unamused. “I can see that, you bulgehumping repulsive shame globe juggler! _Why the_ fuck _are we here._ ”

Uh oh. This is going south faster than you’d expected it to. You can still salvage this though, you think. You squish his cheeks in that way you know he secretly loves, pushing them together so he has this sort-of duckface thing going on. On a good day, it can get him to laugh. And though he’s not laughing now, his pout looks less upset and more forced. “Hey, no bitching. We’re here to have fun. Now, we’re going to go in there and try to enjoy ourselves, and if you really hate it, I’ll take you home. But you have to try, okay?”

He glares at you for a moment longer before giving in, sighing and nodding. “Yeah, fine, whatever. Let go of my face.”

You laugh, withdrawing your hands and offering him your bag. “You might want to get changed before we go in. You’re going to fucking melt in what you’re wearing now.”

He frowns, taking your bag and unzipping it. He only glances at what you’ve packed for him, though, before zipping it back up and shoving it back into your hands, face slightly red. “Hell fucking no, I’m not wearing that.”

You snort, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Suit yourself, man. But hey, if you change your mind, the option’s always on the table.” You shoot tonight’s DJ - Aradia - a quick text to let her know you’re here and you’ll be up for a turn in the booth in a sec. Then you quickly slip the device into your pocket, take Karkat’s hand, and tug him inside.

It is _packed_ in there. It’s been so long since you’ve had this many patrons at once. It’s a bit weird, having them all here so late in the year, but you suppose it’s also a Friday…

Karkat already looks unhappy, sticking close you you and looking around at the writhing mass on the dance floor uncomfortably. Still, he’s not verbally protesting yet, so you’ll take that as a sign that it’s safe to continue as planned.

“See? This isn’t so bad, is it?” You nudge him slightly, a grin making its way onto your face much more easily than it had for as long as you can remember.

Karkat’s not so easily moved. He crosses his arms, frowning angrily up at you. “It’s hot as Satan’s asshole in here,” he whines, having to shout even louder than usual to be heard over the thumping music. “And it’s so fucking loud I can’t even hear my own moronic thoughts.”

“Then don’t think.” You laugh, taking one of his hands and bringing it to your lips, only for him to jerk it away and give you a warning look. Yeah, you should have seen that one coming. One step at a time. You play it off by rolling your eyes and shoving your bag into his arms. “If you’re that hot, then go change! Stop being such a wiggler about it.”

“I’m not being a wiggler!” He fires back, snatching the bag from you, though he doesn’t look inclined to do much more than that.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you huff. You only have so big of a window to get up there and woo him with your DJing skills. “Fine. You don’t have to change if you’re not comfortable with it, okay?” Karkat visibly relaxes, and you have to make a conscious effort to not lean right in and kiss his forehead. “Hey, listen, I need you to wait right here for a sec, okay? I’m gonna show you something.”

You duck into the crowd, vaguely able to hear him complaining before the distance drowns him out.

It’s easy for you to slip your way through the crowd and hop into the DJ booth. Aradia’s waiting for you there, headphones still pressed over her pointy ears. As she notices you, though, she slips them down around her neck instead, trapping a mess of long, curly hair. She gives you a mock-stern look, but it’s clear that she’s trying hard not to smile. “Your troll boy had better swoon when he sees this. Which one is he?”

You scan the crowd, soon spotting him where you left him by the entrance. He’s hugging your bag and looking around; he hasn’t seen you yet. You point. “There, the cutie hanging around by the door.”

Aradia squints as she follows your indication, then grins. “The little one in the sweater? The one who looks like he’s melting?”

“Yup. That’s him.”

She laughs, slipping her headphones off from around her neck and handing them to you. “You sure do know how to pick ‘em.”

“Man, ‘Radia, you don’t know the half of it.” You nod towards him as you take the headphones. “Like, you should see him up close. He’s got all this hair, and these cute little horns that you can barely see in all the mess. And he’s so small, and so _warm,_ and he shouts pretty much everything, and stomps wherever he goes, and he always wants to sit in tall chairs if he has the option because he likes feeling tall. He’s also really sappy and cries over rom-coms. He really loves rom-coms. A lot. He says he wants to be an author and he reads a lot so I’m sure he’d be great at it, but I’m also pretty sure he’d just write a bunch of mushy romance stuff and make me read it. Not that I wouldn’t volunteer to read it. I want to support him, y’know? Haha, I’m not talking about how he looks anymore, am I?”

Aradia gives you this knowing little look, patting your arm and sauntering out of the booth. “You haven’t been for a while now.”

Fuck, you’re a mess. When had you started smiling? Grinning, even. Karkat just...gets to you so easily. Without even trying. Without even knowing.

You shake your head, putting on the headphones and messing around with the DJ system for a moment. You just have to get into the groove of something familiar to clear your head. If you’re lucky, it’ll impress Karkat too. Two birds, one stone.

It’s not long before you’re crossfading into a new song, and then you’re fingers are flying, messing with turntables and switches and knobs. You’re not really thinking about it that much, paying more attention to the theatrics and performance of it all instead.

You know Karkat recognizes your style of mixing from your pre-mixed songs that you’ve played for him before. When you look out over the crowd, you see that he’s looking back at you. Between the shitty lighting and the crowd, you can’t really see his eyes, but you _can_ see the way his lips part, feel the intensity of his gaze on you.

You see him look down at the bag in his arms after a minute, and after one last glance to you, he storms into the bathroom, pushing club-goers out of his way as he goes. You know you’re grinning this time. Yeah, that’s your Kat; stubborn enough that he’d find a way to push a fucking mountain range aside if it didn’t have the good sense to get out of his way.

You’re not exactly waiting on him with bated breath or anything, but you _do_ notice that he spends more time in the bathroom than is strictly necessary to change. If you had to guess why based only on his reaction when he saw what you had packed for him, you’d go out on a limb and say he feels self-conscious. It certainly is a far cry from what he usually wears. If everything had gone according to plan, you’d be with him right now to assure him that he looks fine, but instead you can only hope that he doesn’t panic and back out.

He doesn’t disappoint.

Your fingers stutter on the turntables, and you definitely miss at least two beats as you spot him leaving the bathroom. Your breath catches in your throat. Holy _shit._

You’d gone out of your way to buy this outfit for him, and fuck, it paid off. The leather pants fit him to a T, and have you ever mentioned how fucking incredible Karkat’s legs are? Because they are beautiful. If you could take a day off from whatever inane needs your body seems to have, you’d spend it kissing every inch of his legs. He could literally strangle you to death with his thighs and you’d thank him with your dying breath. And his ass? _Jesus._

Your eyes roam up. Maybe the tank top was a bit big on him, but it actually worked perfectly that way. It’s plain white, but looks so amazing against the grey of his skin. And so much of it is on display. The arm holes are cut unnecessarily long, and you can see his grubscars, the curve of his waist, his soft stomach. His arms are toned, though. You’d never noticed that before. How had you never noticed that he had such amazing arms? Well...to be fair, it was probably because the only times you’d ever seen this much of him at once before was before, during, or after getting intimate, and usually you were a bit distracted by other things at those times.

Your gaze finally settles on his face. Even across the room, you can see that he’s blushing pretty badly, though the colourful flashing lights make it hard to tell what colour his blood is, thank god. He’s staring right at you, and as always, each and every one of his emotions are on display on his face; irritation, exasperation, self-consciousness, embarrassment. You want to think you see a little bit of happiness and amusement there too, but that might be your wishful thinking.

Damn, you want to kiss him now. You know you wouldn’t be able to, even if you were down there with him; he probably wouldn’t let you. You still want to, though. You love his mouth, love how his lips always feel like they’re burning against yours. Love the feeling of his breath, hot on your neck, his tongue on your skin and lips. His tongue doesn’t feel like a human tongue; it’s kind of rough, like a cat’s, but still so wet. The last time it was on you, it was quite a bit further south than your face, and you didn’t mind a bit.

Uh.

Fuck.

Your face is red by the time you tear your eyes off of Karkat and try to refocus your efforts on your turntables. Things could have gotten embarrassing there. They almost did. You try to push your earlier thoughts from your head. That’s not your goal for today anyway. For today, all you want is to get Karkat to at least consider actually dating you, instead of doing...whatever the fuck it is you’ve been doing up to now.

You take a few minutes to focus on work and calm yourself down before risking looking up once more, scanning the crowd for Karkat. You find him not long after; he’s standing exactly where he was before, but he’s not alone anymore. Unfortunately, you recognise the person with him.

Eridan fucking Ampora. He has a bad reputation around here for flirting with the other club-goers and generally making people feel uncomfortable. He’s never gotten physical with anyone, but several people have reported him for refusing to leave them alone after they told him ‘no’. Several staff members have warned him time and time again that he needs to lay off, but unfortunately, you can’t kick him out or ban him, since he’s a friend of Condy’s daughter or some shit. You don't think that should matter, but unfortunately, you're not the one who gets to decide that.

Given the distance and the noise, you can't actually make out what they're saying, but you can clearly see Karkat’s agitation as Eridan chats him up. He keeps gesturing to you and backing up, but Eridan is following him like a lost puppy. No, that comparison is too pleasant. He's more like a parasite trying to latch himself onto an unwilling victim. But Karkat’s not going to be that victim. Not if you can help it.

You pull off your headphones and pass them to Aradia, eyes never leaving the pair. “Sorry, I have to go,” you mumble. She seems to understand, not questioning your statement and simply taking the headphones. You can hear her wishing you luck as you hurry out of the DJ’s booth and into the crowd.

It takes a minute or two to elbow your way through the swarm of writhing dancers and arrive at the back of the club, where you’d last seen the pair. By now, Karkat had backed himself right up against a wall. Eridan’s still bugging him, and keeps trying to take his hands, even as he continues pulling them away to gesture angrily. Time to put a stop to that shit.

You approach the two, wrapping an arm around Karkat's waist and pulling him closer to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see surprise cross his face, then relief. You stare down Eridan, keeping your expression as composed as you can. “Is there a problem here?”

“What the fuck took you so long, asshole?” Karkat says by way of response, but you know he's glad to see you by the way he leans into your side.

“Sorry babe, I was working.” He looks like he wants to say something about the ‘babe’ thing, but he keeps quiet about it for now.

“I was just telling Eridan here that I came here with you, and I intend to leave with you too. He seems to be having a hard time understanding that, though.”

Your gaze locks on Eridan, who’s looking steadily less comfortable. You have no doubt he’s been in this exact situation before. “Man, we’ve talked about this. If someone says they’re not interested, then they’re not interested, and you need to back off.”

“I didn’t mean to come off like that, though!” Eridan insists, though you somehow doubt that that’s true. “I just wanted to know if Kar was interested in hangin’ out with me. As friends. He’s the one assumin’ I meant any more than that.”

The fact that he’s trying to blame Karkat for ‘misunderstanding’ is kind of pissing you off, and his weird sort of wavy sounding accent has never sounded more annoying. You try not to snap at him. “...Okay. Sure. Let’s go with that. Still, even if you’re just trying to be friendly, he said ‘no’. So _back off.”_

Eridan looks like he wants to find another excuse, but finally withers under your stare  and retreats. You watch him go in silence, pulling Karkat a bit closer and holding him there for a few seconds before letting go with a sigh and turning to look at him. “You alright?”

There’s something on his face, some emotion you can’t quite name as he stares back at you. A beat passes in silence before he nods. “Yeah. I’m okay. Thanks for getting rid of him.”

You huff irritably. “Privileged dick doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘no’.” You shake your head, trying to dispel your irritation, then manage a smile. If you’re down here anyway, you may as well progress with your plan. “Hey, come dance with me.”

“No.” He doesn’t even miss a beat. You snicker.

“Aw, come on Kat, it’ll be fun! I mean, we’re at a club. The only other thing to do here is flirt with strangers or get hammered, and somehow, I don’t think you’re going to want to do either of those.”

He crosses his arms, glaring at you. “Then you shouldn’t have brought me here. I’m not dancing, Dave.”

“Karkaaaat,” you whine, trying not to laugh. Such a stubborn little shit. “Two minutes. Dance with me for two minutes, and if you really hate it, then I won’t make you keep dancing. Hell, we can leave after that if you really don’t like it.”

He hesitates, staring at you. “I don’t even know how to dance, though.”

“Then just follow my lead. I’ll show you what to do.” He looks uncertain, and you sigh, taking his hands. “Please?”

Finally he sighs, nodding and giving in. “...Fine. Two minutes.”

You grin, pulling him along into the crowd. You try to find the thinnest part of the crowd, but it’s pretty packed today. You’ll just have to deal with it.

Neither of you have actually started moving yet, and Karkat already looks uncomfortable. That honestly doesn’t surprise you. Still, you need to do something before he really does decide to leave. “So...what am I supposed to do?”

God, you never thought you’d see the day you had to teach someone how to dance. Especially not at a club. “Just...move with the music. It’s not hard.” He looks hopelessly confused. You sigh, listening to the music. It doesn’t take long to catch on to the beat, and soon you’re bouncing to the rhythm, rolling one shoulder at a time to get your upper body involved.

Karkat’s still kind of just standing there, not moving. You sigh, gripping his upper arms and rocking him slightly. “Come on, at least try.”

He hesitates, but finally complies, mimicking your movements stiffly and clumsily. You shake your head. “Dude, you have to relax. Loosen up.”

It takes him a moment, but he gradually seems to relax, though he’s still pretty much copying what you’re doing, and his arms are glued to his sides. You roll your eyes behind your shades, taking his hands and raising them over your heads. “You’re getting there. Come on Kat, you’ve got this.”

He slowly starts trying his own thing as he grows more comfortable, lifting and bending his arms on his own, incorporating movement with his torso, and eventually even beginning to sway his hips slightly.

You raise your eyebrows, smiling slightly as you watch him move. Well, damn. You honestly hadn’t been sure if you’d be able to get him to dance at all, but look at him now. He’s a natural.

He catches you staring and offers a coy smile of his own. He inches a bit closer to you - you’d already been standing so _close -_ and drapes his arms over your shoulders. Oh. Okay, yeah, you’re into that. You look to him for permission as your hands settle on his hips. He doesn’t stop you.

You don’t want to push your luck, but it’s not long before you’re pulling his hips against yours. You can hear his panting over the music, see the colour slowly creeping across his cheeks as he moves his hips against yours. Yeah okay this whole dancing thing was actually a terrible idea and you never should have even suggested it because you’re about to pop a boner in the middle of the club and ruin the whole point of this date.  To be fair, you hadn’t expected him to get this into it.

You shift your hands up from his hips to his waist, still keeping him close, but maybe in a bit less of a bump and grind kind of way. He glances up at you, seeming confused, but not necessarily upset.

You’re not sure how much time you two spend dancing like that, but it’s definitely more than two minutes. Finally, though, Karkat takes your hands and pulls you back off the dance floor. You’re grinning from ear to ear. “I told you you’d have fun.”

He shoots you an annoyed look, but he can’t hide that little smile from you. “I’m sticky, sweaty, and tired,” he yells over the music, “and I’m pretty sure I lost all hearing in my left ear.”

You roll your eyes at his melodrama, guiding him towards the door. “But you had fun,” you repeat. He doesn’t protest.

On to the next phase of your plan. You’re supposed to walk him to a pretty good froyo place nearby, actually pay for his, and finally tell him that you like him and want to date. You’ve thought this through, planned every single word that you’re going to say, and you’re ready to finally make this happen.

You step outside.

It’s raining.

Fuck.

Karkat rummages through your bag, grabbing his cell phone. “I’ll call a cab to get us home,” he mumbles as he finds it. No, that can’t happen. Tonight’s been going almost perfectly so far. You have to do this tonight. Who knows if you’ll get another chance like this one? And you don’t know if you’ll be able to bring yourself to tell him in any situation other than the one you’d prepared for. You have to think fast. Rain is romantic, right? You can work with rain.

You snatch the phone from Karkat before he can call anyone, earning you an indignant “Hey!” You ignore him for now, dropping his phone back in your bag and zipping it up, then taking his hand before he can protest. You begin to tug him out of the club’s doorway and into the rain, but he pulls back. “Dave, what the fuck are you doing? It’s pouring.”

You have to get him to come with you. What would the love interest in one of his shitty romcoms say in a situation like this? “...Do you trust me?”

“...” He falls for it hook, line and sinker. He barely hesitates before stepping out of the doorway and into the rain with you. You grin at him, then turn and run off in the direction of the froyo place, tugging him along with you. He’s slipping and swearing, but you can hear him laughing too.

 

* * *

 

By the time you get there, you’re both breathing hard and drenched to the bone. The ac isn’t doing either of you any favours. You glance over at Karkat. The rain’s plastered his hair onto his face, and when he tries to push it back, it just flops back into his eyes. He huffs and crosses his arms, shivering. His shirt’s stuck onto him like a second skin, and it’s gone pretty much transparent from the rain. His pants don’t look soaked, but you can see little rivulets of rain water dripping down his leather-clad legs, and wow, yeah, you need to stop staring at him now. He glances up at you, and you quickly avert your gaze, though you’re not quite sure if it was fast enough.

If he caught you staring, he doesn’t say anything about it. He just grabs your bag from you, digging through it to grab his sweater and pull it back on over his clothes. Man, maybe you _should_ have been staring at him while you’d had the chance; you doubt you’ll see him dressed in something like that again any time soon, if ever.

“I can’t believe you made me run all this way in the rain and cold for ice cream,” Karkat grumbles, but he still grabs one of the self serve froyo cup things.

You’re pretty sure people are staring at the two of you as you join him, but you choose to ignore them, grabbing a cup for yourself. “It’s not ice cream babe, it’s froyo. There’s a difference.”

He makes a face, mixing the pomegranate and strawberry flavours in his cup. “You’re a pretentious asshole.”

You scoff, mixing a little bit of every flavour of yogurt in your cup before moving over to grab some toppings. “Thanks, and you’re unadventurous when it comes to trying new foods.” Karkat looks absolutely horrified as you begin adding toppings. Honestly, you’re just throwing on anything and everything that looks appealing.

“You’re going to make yourself sick,” he scoffs, adding fruit, nuts and whipped cream to his.

You roll your eyes, putting your froyo on the scale at the counter and gesturing for him to do the same. He hesitates uncertainly, but you gesture again and he gives in, placing his cup next to yours on the scale. The employee behind the counter looks very uncomfortable as she tells you the price. You’re quick to pay before Karkat has a chance to even offer to pay for half (even if he’d offered and you’d been willing to accept, that would have been super unfair to him; yours is clearly way heavier).

“Alright, come on, let’s find a table.” Your eyes are already scanning the room, looking for somewhere to sit as Karkat grabs both of your froyos. Before you can point out an empty table, you’re approached by another very uncomfortable looking employee.

“Um, sirs, we’re very grateful for your patronage, but, um, would you be willing to step outside? You’re more than welcome to sit at one of the tables out there.”

Kakat narrows his eyes, glances out at the pouring rain and metal tables and chairs, then looks back to the employee. “Tell me you’re joking. It’s piss-pouring rain out there.”

The employee shifts, avoiding eye contact. “Um, sorry, it’s just, you’re both drenched and leaving puddles and footprints everywhere, and it’s starting to make the other customers uncomfortable.”

Oh right. Oops.

Karkat doesn’t back down, straight up glaring at this poor employee now. “What, so your reasoning for sending us back into the rain is that we’re already wet? That’s insane. Where’s your manager?”

The guy looks just about ready to curl up and die. “I, uh...I _am_ the manager.”

_“Then you should be fucking ashamed of yourself.”_

As hilarious as it would be to watch Karkat blow up at this guy, and as much as he kind of deserves it for kicking you out - which, yeah, is a real asshole move - you don’t think it would be worth it to cause a scene right now. You’d probably still get kicked out, and Karkat would be in an even worse mood, which would make it even harder for you to confess to him.

You put a hand on his shoulder, trying to get his attention before he starts going off. “Kat, hey. It’s not worth it. Let’s just go, okay?” He doesn’t look happy about it, but he begrudgingly hooks your arms together and leaves the shop with you. You can practically hear the sigh of relief that sweeps through the place.

The two of you stand under the overhang for a moment, at a loss for what to do now. “...We could try running for home?” you suggest halfheartedly.

“There’s no way we could run all the way back to our apartments in the rain while carrying froyos.” Karkat’s answer is blunt. He heaves a sigh.

You’re quiet for a moment before grinning over at him. “Want to sit outside their door and make sure no one else goes in?”

He offers a slight smile at that, and unhooks his arm from yours to take a seat on the curb. “You know it.”

You snort and sit next to him. The two of you sit in silence for a while, just eating your yogurts. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea for you to mix all those flavours. Every mouthful is a new, equally terrible combination.

Karkat finishes his froyo first, understandably. He glances over at you, then rolls his eyes and wordlessly takes a spoonful of your yogurt. He tries it, then screws up his face. “This is fucking awful.” He takes another spoonful.

You don’t reply with snark, instead shifting your cup so that he can get to it without leaning across you. “...Thanks.”

He glances up at you, but seems to understand, offering a slight smile and a nod. God, you want to kiss him. But you don’t, yet.

Yeah, it was definitely a bad idea to get froyo when the rain’s already freezing you. You’re shivering, cold on the inside and out. When you glance over at Karkat again, you see that he’s shivering too. This is it. This is your chance.

You don’t hesitate, wrapping an arm around Karkat’s shoulder and pulling him closer. You can so easily play it off as an attempt to keep him warm if he’s uncomfortable with it or something. It’s perfect.

Or, it would be, except that he immediately jerks away from you, wide eyed.

You go to stammer out an apology and excuse, but he’s speaking loudly before you can. “Jesus _fuck_ Dave, you’re fucking freezing!”

Oh. Oh, shit, right, he’s got all that extra body heat. How the fuck did you forget about that? You quickly attempt a recovery. “I mean, I know a couple of fun ways we could get warmed up.”

You lower your shades to wink at him, to which he responds with an elbow to your ribs. He grumbles under his breath, pulling off his sweater and handing it to you. “Here. It’s wet, but it should be warmer than what you’re wearing.”

...Huh. You weren’t expecting that. You take it uncertainly, watching Karkat as you do. “...Are you sure…? I mean, you’re cold too, right?”

He shrugs slightly. “I’m not too cold. And you’re shivering more than seems normal. It’s fine.”

You want to insist you’re fine, but honestly, you’re pretty cold, and Karkat doesn’t look uncomfortable or anything, so you give in and put the sweater on. It’s so big on him that it actually fits you pretty decently. “...Thanks. Let me know if you change your mind and want it back, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” He nods, settling against your side. His skin’s only a little colder out here than it had felt in the club. Man, that mutantblood heat had some serious advantages.

You sit in silence for another few seconds. This is it. This is the moment. You can tell him. You clear your throat nervously. “So, um, Kat -”

“Is that frozen yogurt?” You’re interrupted from your grand declaration of love by some passing stranger who decided to stop in front of the two of you. You can tell by the look on Karkat’s face that he doesn’t know this man either.

“Um...yeah?” you reply after a moment, bewildered.

The man shakes his head, mumbling to himself as he checks his pockets. After a bit of fumbling, he holds a ten dollar bill out to you. “Here. You boys go get yourselves something warm to eat.”

The situation clicks to Karkat at the same moment as you. “Oh, no, sir, we’re not -” he starts, but you quickly interrupt.

“Thank you so much for your generosity, sir. We’ll be sure to put this to good use. You have a nice day.”

The man nods and wanders off. Karkat turns to stare at you, wide eyed. “Dave, that man thought we were homeless,” he hisses.

“Well, yeah, can you blame him? We’re soaking wet and shivering, sitting out in the rain, with nothing but a backpack and a couple of empty froyo cups.”

“If you knew he thought that, why’d you take his money?”

You shrug. “I’m not gonna say no to ten bucks.”

He stares at you in stunned silence for a moment. Then, finally, he starts laughing. “Holy _shit,_ you’re such a fucking tool!”

You don’t mind the insult, coming from him. You know he doesn’t mean it. In fact, you smile. You love just listening to him laugh. You want to kiss him.

So you do.

You lean right in, pressing your lips to his. He makes this little surprised sound against your mouth, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, after a second, he begins kissing you too.

This was turning out better than you’d expected, but you’re not going to push your luck. You pull back after a few seconds, resting your forehead against his. “...I like you.”

“...I know.”

Wait.

What?

“You...you know?”

He rolls his eyes, pulling away. “I’m not blind, Dave. Not an idiot either. I’ve seen the way you look at me. I’ve heard the way you talk about me. I know you don’t strictly act like a friend towards me. So yeah, I know that you like me.”

That...wasn’t a turn you’d been prepared for. You blink, stunned. “I...wait, if you knew, why didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugs. “They weren’t my feelings to bring up. I figured if you wanted to talk to me about it, you would.”

You’re silent for a moment. Was it really that obvious? Finally, you pipe up again uncertainly. “So, um...now that that’s out there...what about you?”

He sighs, pushing a hand through his wet hair. “...I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel something for you too. I guess if we’re being fair, I’ve kind of been pushing you away. I didn’t really feel like I was ready for a relationship yet. I...honestly, I’m still not sure if I am. But, um...if...if you want to try something, I’d be willing to try.”

You hesitate. “Does...does that mean you’d be willing to be my matesprit?”

Karkat seems surprised, but then grins. “Only if you’ll be my boyfriend.”

Holy shit. This is actually happening. You don’t even reply, simply leaning back in and kissing Karkat once more, dazed and amazed when he kisses back.

You have a matesprit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on this chapter for so long I don't even want to say anything about it, ugh. Comment, and talk to me/ask me questions on my [tumblr](https://lilithwiththefanfics.tumblr.com/).


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frowning in confusion, you duck back inside, closing the door and glancing down at the newspaper in your hands. Once you do, things become all too clear more quickly than you’d have liked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for supremacy, mentions/descriptions of deadkat, panic attacks, and negligent police. I'm so sorry.

You’re getting better at painting nails. Or claws, you guess. You do Karkat’s for him fairly often, and he does yours. He usually asks you to paint his nude or dull blue or pink - colours that couldn’t possibly match up with any on the hemospectrum. Every now and then, though, if you butter him up enough first, he’ll let you paint them bright red instead. That always makes you happy, seeing him sporting your colour. Rare as it may be, it’s nice.

It’s pretty clear how much Karkat values the time you spend doing each other’s nails. He’s always willing to provide everything you’ll need and more, from nail polish to files to little nail gems and stickers that he likes to use when he has the time to give your nails a little something extra. You don’t quite have the skill to do the same for him just yet, but he doesn’t seem to mind. It relaxes him even if he’s the one painting your nails, you’ve noticed.

Honestly, you kind of get it. You don’t have to think when you’re doing this, you can just...do it. And since it doesn’t take that much focus, you can talk to each other about whatever while you’re doing it. It’s kind of therapeutic, honestly.

At the moment, you’re carefully painting his claws bright red, listening as he complains about work. 

“Seriously, they expect so fucking much from me. I’m the  _ assistant  _ editor, I shouldn’t be getting as much of this shit as I am. I’m pretty sure they’re just giving me extra work because I’m a...you know. And so much of it is so stupidly unnecessary. Like, you’d think that people would know how to spell most words, since it  _ is  _ a  _ journalism firm.  _ And even if they didn’t, spell check is a thing. I get so many pieces with those little red underlines. I swear to god, they have to be spelling some of this shit wrong on purpose  _ just  _ to give me more work, and then I have to stay in late trying to make sure everything’s ready for the deadline. I’m spending so much time there I barely have enough time to get shit done for school. It’s such  _ bullshit.” _

You hum as you listen, closing the polish and grabbing the top coat, giving it a few shakes before opening it up. “Honestly, I don’t get why you don’t just quit. Find a different job, dude. One where they actually respect you. And, y’know, don’t  _ threaten  _ you?”

He sighs, shaking his head as he stares down at your hands. “If only it was that simple, hm? But no, Dave. I can’t do that. First of all, I really need the money. I shit you not when I say in the time between quitting this job and getting a new one, I’d probably be evicted for falling behind on rent. Then I’d...probably have to move back in with Kankri? Which, yeah, fuck no. Not doing that. And besides, I honestly...I don’t think there  _ is  _ anywhere like that where I can go. Anywhere where there are enough trolls, there’s always going to be at least one asshole who’ll try to lash out at me for not properly fitting into the bullshit-spectrum.”

As much as you hate to admit it, you know he’s probably right. Even with humans, there’s always that one guy who’s racist, or sexist, or homophobic, and is more than willing to take it out on whoever fits that demographic, even if they haven’t done anything wrong. You refuse to say any of that out loud, though, so you’re quiet as you finish up the top coat.

You’re moving to put the nail supplies away when you hear someone knocking. You glance to Karkat, who’s staring at the door with his eyebrows furrowed. “Weird. I wasn’t expecting anyone…”

He starts to get up, but you shake your head. “Babe, your nails are still drying, let me.” He reluctantly settles back down on the couch as you move to the door, pulling it open. When you do, you’re a bit confused to see that there’s no one there. It seems whoever had knocked left a newspaper on the ground. You pick it up, poking your head outside and looking up and down the hall. There’s no one there, as far as you can see. Frowning in confusion, you duck back inside, closing the door and glancing down at the newspaper in your hands. Once you do, things become all too clear more quickly than you’d have liked.

“Dave? Babe, what’s that?” You hastily hide the newspaper behind your back as Karkat gets off of the couch and approaches. You can’t let him see this.

“Oh, it’s, uh...nothing. It’s not for you.”

He rolls his eyes, trying to grab it from your hands. “If it was left outside my apartment, I suspect it’s for me. Let me see it.”

You try to keep it out of his reach, but he finally manages to snatch it from you, laughing victoriously before looking down at it. “Babe, seriously, I don’t think you should…”

You’re already too late. His eyebrows furrow as his eyes move over the words and images on the page, blood draining from his face the longer he stares. You sigh and gently try to take it from him, but he settles a hand on your chest to stop you, eyes scanning across the page a bit faster now. His breathing steadily becomes more rapid, and he shakes his head as his fingers curl in your shirt. You can feel him trembling. “Fuck...fuck...no, no, no…” he whispers the words as the newspaper slips from his hand, and he sinks to his knees. 

Eyes widening, you’re quick to kneel in front of him, pulling off your shades, cupping his cheeks and trying to get him to look at you. It’s not working; he’s nearly doubled over, gaze fixed on the floor as he clutched his chest. “Karkat. Karkat, hey, it’s okay. Come on, it’s okay, it’s not real. You know it’s not real. Come on, breathe, I need you to breathe.”

He shakes his head jerkily as he gasps and wheezes, struggling to form words. “Not, it’s not, it’s not…” 

You give up on making him look at you for now, instead rubbing his back and trying your best to soothe him. “Right, exactly, it’s not real. That’s it, come on…”

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head harder. “Not  _ okay!  _ Not okay, Dave, it’s not...not…!”

“Shh, shh, hey, yes it is, it’s okay, I’ve got you. Come on Kat, breathe. I’ve got you, I’m here. No one’s going to hurt you…” You stroke his back and face and hair, desperately trying to get him at least calm enough to breathe. You’re honestly more than a bit freaked out too, but you have to keep it together. For his sake. “Come on kitten, I need you to breathe. Just breathe, come on, deep breaths…”

He sucks in a breath. It’s ragged and unsteady, but it’s a start. Finally, he uncurls enough to throw his arms around you, sobbing into your shoulder. You whisper little comforts into his ear, gently rubbing his back as he stumbles over panicked words. “They know where I  _ live,  _ Dave...they fucking know…”

“It doesn’t matter,” you insist quietly, shaking your head. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, okay? I promise. No one’s laying a finger on you.” You press a few gentle kisses to his hair before scooping him up off the floor, carrying him instead to his room and setting him down in his bed. When he whines and reaches for you, you offer a little smile and sit next to him, tucking him in and stroking his hair as he presses his face into your thigh.

Too many minutes go by like this, the only sounds being Karkats sobs and sniffles, going quieter far too slowly. Finally, you sigh, shaking your head. “...We have to take this to the cops…”

Karkat only sniffles and shakes his head, rubbing at his wet eyes. “Don’t waste your time...”

You frown, gently brushing the lingering tears from his cheeks. “Babe, we  _ have  _ to. These people are  _ threatening  _ you.”

He sighs, curling up slightly. “You think I don’t know that…? But nothing will change if we take this to the police. Human cops won’t give a shit because I’m a troll, and troll cops won’t give a shit because I’m a mutant. It’s pointless…”

You’re quiet for a moment. That can’t be true, right? Cops are supposed to help people. There’s no way they’d just sit back and let this happen with evidence that Karkat needed help. You shake your head, returning to stroking his hair. “...Try to get some rest, okay, Kat?”

He furrows his eyebrows, loosely gripping your jeans with one hand. “Stay with me? I don’t...I don’t feel safe…”

Your gaze softens, and you gently rub his cheek. “Of course...I’m going to protect you.”

He managed a slight smile at that, closing his eyes. It’s only seconds before his grip loosens. He’s already out.

You sigh, absently stroking his hair and lingering in the bed for a few more minutes before getting up. You return to the living room, picking up the newspaper from where Karkat had dropped it. You hadn’t actually gotten to read it before you’d had to hide it from him. Sighing once more, you take a seat on the couch and start reading the article.

 

**ALTERNIA JOURNAL CONSTITUTION**

**MUTANTS FINALLY WIPED OUT : TROLLKIND PURE ONCE MORE**

 

_ For centuries, trolls have strived towards perfection. We’ve made leaps and bounds of progress throughout history, weeding out the weak, the unnecessary, slowly becoming the master race we were always meant to be. _

_ But time and time again, there are those who stand in the way of progress. Karkat Vantas, known mutant, stood between us and perfection. The mutant undermined everything we’ve worked for. All of our progress. Everything we have worked for so long to accomplish. _

_ It is encouraging to know that for every abomination like him, there are at least ten good citizens trying to make a difference. Last Friday, a group of such citizens finally made moves to get rid of him, redeeming our kind and making us pure once more. _

 

The short article is accompanied by pictures that you don’t even want to look at. They’re all Karkat. One of him at work, one where he’s ducking into the bulding...you’re even in one, with him at your coffee shop.

That’s only three. The majority of them...god. They’re all photoshopped, a bit too well, all pictures of...of his dead body. It seems like he’s been hit by a car in one, lying on the road with his body bent the wrong way. He’s been shot in another, a single bullet hole between his eyes. He’s hanging in one, burning in another, bleeding out from multiple stab wounds in another. There’s even one of his severed head, eyes glazed over, mouth open, tongue lolling...there’s so much  _ blood… _

A quick flip through the other papers shows the same article and images on each page, front and back. You feel nauseous. There’s someone out there who actually wants to  _ do this  _ to your Karkat You can’t let that happen. You can’t let them hurt him.

You duck out of the apartment, heading to your own to grab your skateboard, and then you’re out. You know Karkat doesn’t think it’ll help, but you have to get this to the police. It’s all you can think of. There has to be something they can do. They have to help.

You skate down the street to the nearest police station. It’s not too far, luckily, and soon enough you’re hopping off your board and storming inside, throwing the newspaper down onto an officer’s desk. He looks up at you, confused. You just point at it. “Someone left that outside my boyfriend’s apartment. They’re  _ threatening  _ him.”

The officer frowns, looking down at the paper once more. After a moment, he sighs and looks back up, holding it out to you. “I’m sorry sir, you’re going to have to take this up with the troll department. I can direct you there, if you’d like.”

You pause, surprised, and more than a little annoyed by the lack of shits this guy seems to give. At least he’s not outright dismissing you, you guess. You follow his directions to the troll department upstairs, again dropping the paper onto an officer’s desk. Again, he just stares at you. You sigh irritably. “Someone’s threatening my boyfriend. They left this outside of his apartment.”

You point angrily at the paper, which, frowning, the troll officer picks up and reads through. After a moment, he looks back up at you. “...Your boyfriend is a mutant?”

_ “Does it matter?”  _ you hiss back angrily. 

The officer shrugs his eyebrows and looks back to the paper, flipping through the pages. Finally, he shakes his head, setting it down and looking back at you. “...I’m sorry, sir, there isn’t really anything we can do. This isn’t enough to count as a threat.”

“It isn’t  _ enough?”  _ You bend down, pointing furiously at one of the pictures. “How is this not enough? There’s someone out there who wants to hurt him!”

He only shrugs. “There are a lot of people out there who’d want to hurt a mutant, but few who’d go through with it. Besides, it’s not like we can arrest someone for making a newspaper. I really wish we could help, but there just isn’t enough to go off of here.”

You can’t believe this. Karkat was right. This guy doesn’t even care. At a loss for words, you simply pick the paper back up, turn, and leave the station, making your way back to Karkat’s apartment.

You’d been expecting him to still be fast asleep, but the moment you step inside, it becomes pretty clear that you were wrong. You can hear him mumbling in his room. When you look inside, you see him sitting up in bed, fumbling with his phone. He’s shaking so hard, he seems to be struggling to even hold it. “Come on, come on, come on…”

“...Kat?” You’re quiet, but he still screams, jumping, before realizing it’s you. He drops his phone and moves to get up, but you quickly move to sit on the bed instead.

He grips your shoulders, staring at you with eyebrows furrowed and eyes watery. “Dave? Where did you go? Why did you leave? You promised you’d stay with me…!”

You cup his cheeks, pressing a few gentle kisses to his face. Fuck. You hadn’t wanted to scare him. You hadn’t wanted to make him cry. “I know, I know, I’m the worst, I’m so so sorry...I just, I thought, I thought if I showed the newspaper to the cops, maybe...I thought they’d help. But you were right. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry Karkat…”

He just clings on to you, shaking his head and crying.

 

* * *

 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] joined Beta Bitches at 20:48 --

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] changed topic to protect my boyfriend --

 

TG: alright guys this isnt a drill   
TG: we have a code fucking red   
TG: okay i sound really sarcastic and like im being ironic or whatever but i actually mean it   
TG: guys seriously i need help i dont know what to do

 

\-- ectoBiologist [EG] joined Beta Bitches at 20:52 --

 

EG: oh jeez, did you really change the group name back to beta bitches?   
EG: i thought we all agreed that was the worst name ever, dave.   
TG: ill change it later okay   
TG: can we talk about the actual problem here   
EG: oh right your boyfriend.   
EG: why do we need to protect him?   
EG: are we protecting him from you?   
TG: john dude please im being serious here   
EG: oh wow jeez sorry. so what’s the problem?

 

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] joined Beta Bitches at 20:56 --

 

GG: dave! why did you change the group name back to beta bitches?   
GG: we all hate that name!   
EG: that’s what i said!   
TG: oh for fucks sake   
EG: oh right but apparently there’s a problem, and we have to protect dave’s boyfriend.   
GG: oh no!!!   
GG: karkat?   
GG: i like him!   
GG: what happened?   
TG: someone left this really fucked up fake newspaper outside of his apartment   
TG: its all about purifying trolls or something by killing mutants   
TG: in this case thats karkat   
TG: look at this shit   
TG: [image attached]   
TG: actually maybe dont look at it its really fucked   
GG: oh no!!!   
GG: dave this is awful!!!   
GG: who would do something like this?   
TG: the assholes he works with apparently   
TG: theyre the only ones whod have access to the equipment to print that   
EG: you were right, this is serious!   
EG: dave you have to tell the police   
TG: i did   
TG: they dont give a shit theyre not going to do anything   
TG: guys i dont want anything to happen to him what do i do   
GG: okay, where is he right now?   
TG: i drew him a warm bubble bath to help him calm down   
EG: he saw the newspaper?   
TG: i tried to hide it but yeah he saw it   
EG: oh shit, is he okay?   
TG: hes really really freaked out   
TG: i think he had a panic attack earlier   
GG: oh no!   
GG: poor karkat…   
GG: D:

 

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] joined Beta Bitches at 21:07 --

 

TT: Reviving the old group chat I see.  
TT: What are we protecting Karkat from?   
EG: scroll up in the chat rose.   
TG: so if i cant rely on the cops what do i do   
GG: i really do not know if there are a lot of long term solutions here dave!   
GG: i would recommend keeping him where you can see him as much as possible   
GG: if he is in the bath, where are you?   
TG: im sitting outside the bathroom door   
GG: good!   
GG: walk him to and from work and school if you can   
GG: or better yet, take a cab or something!   
EG: i know the cops aren’t doing anything, but my kismesis is a lawyer.   
EG: maybe she can think or something that might help?   
TG: wait you have a kismesis   
EG: oh yeah!   
EG: her name’s terezi and she’s kind of the worst.   
EG: in a good way though!   
GG: awww!   
GG: i think   
TT:  I have finished reading through the log, and I agree with Jade.   
TT: It’s probably for the best to try to keep him in your sight when you can.   
TT: Talking to a lawyer could also be useful, thank you John.   
EG: you’re welcome.   
TG: so thats it then   
TT: Not quite.   
TT: I think it might also help to alleviate Karkat’s anxiety if he had a proper moirail he could talk to.   
TG: forget it im not helping to get him and gamzee back together   
TT: That isn’t what I meant.   
TT: I was actually going to suggest introducing him to my matesprit, Kanaya.   
TT: She’s single in that quadrant, and I honestly think she’d make an excellent moirail.   
TG: i guess it wouldnt hurt to introduce them   
TG: especially if you think itd help   
TG: thanks guys this really helped a lot   
GG: of course!   
GG: we want karkat to be safe too!   
TG: ill check in with you guys again once hes asleep i think he just got out of the bath   
TG: thanks

 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] disconnected --

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry. Someone steal my hands so I never have to write anything like this again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today is the day you’re going to introduce Karkat to Kanaya. Of course, he doesn’t know that.

“Do you want to come with me to order drinks, or do you want to find us a table?”

You glance to Karkat, who’s looking around your coffee shop nervously. Today is the day you’re going to introduce him to Kanaya. Of course, he doesn’t know that. You and Rose figured your respective date-mates might not like you two trying to hook them up, so you just told him that you wanted him to meet your sister. Presumably, she told Kanaya the same thing. You’re all supposed to meet up here.

Karkat hesitates, glancing around the near-empty coffee shop. They’re not here yet. “...I can grab a table. You know what to get me?”

You roll your eyes at the question. “Kat, you get the same thing almost every time we’re here. I’ve got this. Go on.”

He sighs tensely, but nods, kissing your cheek before wandering off. You watch him for a moment before approaching the short line at the counter. He’s been so on edge since you got that newspaper article. He almost never goes out anymore if he doesn’t absolutely have to. He’s awake more often, and when he  _ does  _ sleep, his nightmares seem to be worse than they were before. You really hope he and Kanaya get along, and more than that, you hope that that’s enough to help him feel even a little bit safer. You feel like he’s on the verge of snapping - and honestly, you can’t blame him.

It doesn’t take long for you to get your mocaccino and his french vanilla coffee. You move over to where he’s found seats - he’s elected for a booth to one side of the room instead of your usual high table, presumably because there are going to be more of you. You slide into the seat next to him, placing his drink in front of him. He glances at you briefly before glancing away once more. Uh-oh. That can’t be good. You drape an arm over his shoulder. “Alright, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

He’s quiet for a few moments, but you don’t push. You know he’ll talk when he’s ready. Finally, he sighs, slumping into your side. “I just...I know how much your sister means to you. What if...what if she doesn’t like me?”

You pause, a bit surprised by the question. That wasn’t something that had occurred to you for even a split second. You smile at him, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “Okay, first of all, I do plenty of things Rose doesn’t like. Even if she doesn’t like you, I’m not going anywhere. Second, it’s not going to come to that. I already know she’s going to love you.” 

He furrows his eyebrows, looking up at you. “How can you be so sure…?”

You press a gentle kiss between his brows. “Because, even if she has a weird way of showing it, Rose just wants me to be happy. And  _ you  _ make me happier than anyone or anything else.”

He looks away, but there’s no hiding the smile creeping across his face. “You’re such a fucking sap.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t love it, Vantas.” You press a kiss between his horns, getting a soft laugh from him. You don’t get to do more than that, however, before you hear someone clearing their throat nearby. 

You turn your head, and sure enough, there’s Rose, standing with her hands on her hips as she watches you two with an amused smile on her face. She’s always been short - she’s probably around Karkat’s height - but the way she carries herself makes her seem bigger than she is. Her platinum blonde bob is combed neatly behind her ears, bangs held out of her face with a lilac headband. She’s wearing black overalls over a white sweater, and her black lipstick and heavy eyeliner make you suspect that she never really grew out of her goth phase.

The troll with her looks like she could be a model, or royalty. She’s tall and has an easy grace to her, her short hair neatly framing her face, her asymmetrical horns sharp and shiny. She’s well dressed, in a loose black skirt and a sweater that matched her eyes, the colour of emeralds. When she parts her green-painted lips to smile, you see a pair of sharp fangs just barely poking out.

Damn. No wonder your sister likes her. 

You get up, bending to give your sister a hug. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Karkat getting to his feet as well, clearly nervous. He’s been jittery around trolls higher than him on the hemospectrum ever since his eyes finished filling in.

“Rose, you made it.” You grin down at your twin as you pull back. She still looks mildly amused, but you can see the actual joy in her eyes. Poser.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, brother,” she replies with a grin, before her eyes slide past you. “And I assume this is the Karkat I’ve heard so much about? It’s great to finally meet you in person.” She extends a hand. Jeez, did she have to say it like that? You can feel your face heating up slightly. 

Karkat steps up next to you, taking Rose’s hand and shaking it. “That would be me, yeah. And, uh, you too. Nice to meet you. Dave doesn’t say it, but he really admires you, so getting to see why is gonna be, uh...good.”

“Is that so?” Rose looks at you, raising an eyebrow in amusement. Christ, he’s just as bad. You hadn’t thought you’d be regretting introducing them so soon. She finally steps back, gesturing to the tall troll with her. “Oh, where are my manners? This is my matesprit, Kanaya.”

You half expect Kanaya to curtsy and say  _ ‘how do you do?’  _ or some shit, but she only smiles at you and Karkat. “It’s nice to meet you both. I hope you don’t mind me tagging along uninvited.”

“Are you kidding? It’s great to finally meet the girl my sister’s been cooing about for so long.” You shoot a look to Rose, reveling in the way the pair suddenly look like Christmas ornaments - your sister’s face bright red, her girlfriend a violent shade of green. 

Rose clears her throat, glaring at you briefly. “I’m going to go grab some drinks for Kanaya and myself. You all sit, talk. I’ll be back soon.” 

Kanaya bends to peck Rose’s lips, and then your sister is gone, strutting off to join the line. You and Karkat return to your seats, Kanaya sliding into the booth across from you. Her gaze darts between the two of you curiously. “Might I ask how long you two have been dating…?”

You and Karkat exchange a look. You know you’ve known each other for maybe...a little over six months or so, but you’re not sure you know exactly how long you’ve been dating. It was all kind of weird - there was that hazy period after you slept together that first time where you thought you were dating, but you weren’t, then that time where you pretty much acted like a couple but insisted that you weren’t, and finally you told him you liked him, and he already  _ knew,  _ so does that mean you’d been dating since he knew, or since you confessed, and how long ago even was that, right?

Finally, Karkat slips his hand into yours, looking back to Kanaya. “...It’s been almost four months now.”

Four months. Holy shit.

Kanaya grins, lacing her fingers together as she watches you two. “Congratulations. Not to overstep any boundaries, but you two really are cute together. I hope you’ll stay together for much longer.”

“Well, I’m not planning on going anywhere.” You squeeze Karkat’s hand gently, finally tearing your eyes off of him. “What about you and Rose…?”

She laughs sheepishly, looking down at her neat, lilac-painted claws. “We have been together for about a year now…”

Your sister’s been in a relationship for an entire year? Fuck...and you didn’t even know until, like, a month ago. Ugh, great, now you feel like a bad brother.

You don’t have a chance to dwell on it for too long before Rose is back, sliding into her seat next to Kanaya and setting down what looks like two iced teas. “Here we are. I hope I didn’t miss too much juicy gossip?”

Kanaya presses a kiss to Rose’s cheek and damn, you don’t even wear lipstick, but you still might have to invest in whatever she’s using because how the fuck does it not leave a mark at all? “We’ve just been making small talk, love. Of course we had to wait for you before we get into anything newsworthy.” 

Rose entwines her fingers with Kanaya’s, fixing her gaze on Karkat curiously. “Dave tells me you’re studying...journalism, was it? Why don’t you tell me about that?”

Karkat glances to you uncertainly before letting his gaze flick back to your sister. “...I’m studying creative writing, actually, but I’ve taken a couple of journalism-related electives, and I’m interning with a local newspaper, so I’ve got some experience with that too.”

“You’re majoring in creative writing?” Rose sits up slightly, her interest piqued. “So then, you want to be an author?” Karkat nods, looking a little self conscious, though his worry is completely unnecessary. “Well, what a small world it is. I’m actually studying to become a therapist, but I’m trying to load as may writing courses into my electives as possible. I plan on writing under an alias on the side. Is there a particular genre you fancy?”

Your poor boyfriend looks a bit overwhelmed, though there’s a slight smile on his face. That has to be a good sign. “Uh, I write romance, mostly. Though, I um...I’ve actually been dabbling with things with a deeper social commentary lately.”

Kanaya looks intrigued now as well. “Karkat, that’s amazing. I feel like most trolls are just so content to just float by and let things be, it’s a real shame. Can I ask what the particular focus of those works are?”

He blinks, somewhat stunned. “Oh, uh...the hemospectrum, mostly? I mean, I just...I mean, I don’t know, I always thought it was kind of dumb, having someone’s worth being dictated by the colour of their blood. We can’t decide what we’re hatched as. And yeah, sure, there are some biological advantages to being hatched as a higher caste, but that doesn’t automatically mean you’re ‘better’ than lowbloods. Oh! Shit, I mean, I didn’t mean you like  _ you,  _ I just meant, like, a lot of highbloods think they’re better than everyone, and midbloods usually think they’re better than lowbloods, but of course that doesn’t mean  _ you  _ necessarily think you’re better than  _ me,  _ or anyone else, for that matter.”

You’d like to think your rambly nature rubbed off on him. You’re proud of that.

Kanaya laughs softly as Karkat trails off, reaching over to rest a hand lightly on his free one. “Relax, I’m not offended. In fact, I agree with you wholeheartedly. One’s place on the spectrum shouldn’t dictate their place in society. It’s a sentiment I don’t hear often enough. You’re doing good work, trying to spread that message.”

Karkat stares, somewhat bewildered. You notice that he doesn’t move his hand. “I...no offense, but I’m a little confused. You’re a midblood. Aren’t you happy with the way things are?”

She hums, shaking her head. “Of course not. I’m lucky, Karkat. I’m aware of that. I’m also aware of the fact that there are a lot of people who aren’t as lucky as I am. They shouldn’t have to suffer while I watch from a distance.”

Karkat’s eyes light up as he stares at her. “Right, exactly! Holy fuck...I never thought I’d meet anyone higher than a goldblood that thought like that.”

She smiles warmly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before leaning back in her seat. “You have more people supporting you than you think. Believe me.”

You and Rose exchange a look, a little knowing smile on her lips. Exactly as planned.

 

* * *

It’s a few hours before you’re ready to leave. Rose and Kanaya offer to walk you guys back to your apartments before they leave. You and your sister trail along behind your significant others - Karkat is chatting away excitedly, Kanaya looking more than happy to listen and occasionally pitch in. You watch them as you walk. 

“...I honestly didn’t think this would work out as perfectly as it did. I haven’t seen him this happy in a while.” You glance over to Rose, offering a rare, grateful smile. “Thank you for planning all of this, Rose. Seriously, you have no clue how much this means to me.”

She shrugs, glancing at you with a slight smile of her own. “If our positions were reversed, this is what I’d want too. I don’t mind helping. Besides...If he’s upset, so are you. We couldn’t have that.”

You pause, then grin, throwing an arm around your sister. “Aww, I knew you cared about me, Rosie!”

She scoffs indignantly, but she’s grinning as she swats you off of her. “That’s quite enough of that.”

The four of you laugh and chat with each other as you walk, finally coming to a stop in front of Karkat’s apartment. No one really looks like they want to go. Finally, Rose takes Kanaya’s hand. “We should probably get going if we want to get home before dark. But it was nice seeing you again, brother dearest, and of course, it was an honor to meet you, Karkat.”

Karkat seems a little disappointed that they have to go. “Oh...right. Of course. It was nice meeting you guys too.”

Kanaya smiles, gently brushing back Karkat’s hair with her free hand. “We should do something like this again. My chumhandle’s grimAuxiliatrix. Feel free to message me any time you want to meet up again, or even if you just want to talk.”

He perked right back up at that, nodding. “Yeah, sounds great! I’ll shoot you a message later to make sure I have the right person.”

Kanaya laughs softly at that, petting Karkat’s hair gently before stepping back, moving to leave with Rose. “I will talk to you later, Karkat. And it was lovely meeting you, Dave.”

You watch them start down the stairs in silence for a few moments before Karkat pounces. He throws his arms around you, getting a little ‘woah’ of surprise from you before you can get your arms around his waist, and then he’s peppering kisses all over your face. You laugh, shutting your eyes and letting him kiss you for a moment longer before prying him off of you. “As much as I love your kisses - and believe me when I say I’d kill for them - why don’t we put this on hold until we’re actually inside, hm?”

He laughs somewhat sheepishly, moving past you to unlock the door and step inside. “Sorry, I got a little carried away. Just...she’s so  _ cool,  _ Dave! Like, she actually  _ gets  _ it, you know? Like, I’ve worked with jade-bloods before, and they can be so pretentious, you know? But she was just so... _ cool!”  _

You chuckle as you move inside after him, pulling your shoes off my the door. You move to take a seat on the couch, holding out your arms for your boyfriend. He beams, immediately moving to sit in your lap, kissing your cheek as you move your arms around him. You’re both content to just hold onto each other in silence until he speaks softly. “...Thank you, Dave.”

You pause and look down at him, a bit confused. “For what…?”

He rolls his eyes, moving to rest his head on your shoulder. “You don’t have to play dumb. I know you planned all this. I’m not mad, promise. Really, thank you for introducing us.”

You’re quiet for a moment, then sigh, gently rubbing his back. “I just want you to have friends outside of me, you know…?”

“I know…” he murmurs softly. “I know, Dave. I’m sorry for worrying you with all of this. If it helps...I really think things are going to be better now.”

You press a kiss to the side of his head. “I hope so.”

 

* * *

It’s a month before Karkat comes back with the news. He’d been hanging out with Kanaya at her place. He’d been out all day, actually, and you were admittedly starting to get a bit worried as you realized he should have been back already.

Your worry was for nothing, as it turned out. Karkat burst into the living area of his apartment without warning, immediately running and tackling you with enough force to send both of you tumbling to the floor. For a moment, you’re scared that something happened to him on his way home or something. And then you realize he’s laughing, pressing kisses all over your face. You settle your hands on his waist, sitting up on the ground and trying to pull back enough to see his face. He’s practically  _ glowing  _ with joy.

“I take it something good happened with Kanaya?”

He nods enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear. “Dave, she asked me to be her moirail! She actually  _ pities  _ me!”

You make a mental note to ask why pity was a good thing later, but for now, there are more pressing issues at hand. “Kat, that’s amazing! What did you do, what did you tell her?”

“I said yes!” He squealed happily, pulling away enough to show you his hands. His claws had been red and black when he’d left, but not anymore. They’ve been filed into perfect points, all painted the same dazzling emerald as Kanaya’s eyes, save for the ring fingers on both hands, which are instead a pale, cotton-candy pink, green diamonds decorating them. You have to admit, they look a lot more professional than anything you could do.

“Kat, that’s...wow. I’m so happy for you, babe. Congratulations.” 

“And it’s all thanks to you!” He laughs happily.

You’d never really thought of yourself as the jealous type. And yet, when he presses his lips to yours, you have to wonder if, maybe, you’ve made things harder for yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very very bad at sticking to any sort of schedule and I'm really sorry for that. But uhhhh at least I have something now? At last? Ayyy, let me know what you think of this fic so far in the comments. You can also hop onto my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lilithwiththefanfics) to send me questions or scream at me for not updating my stuff when I'm supposed to!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve gradually been getting used to waking up earlier ever since you started spending the nights with Karkat, but today is a Saturday and you doubt it’s later than nine, which is just blasphemy as far as you’re concerned. “Fuck, what time is it?”
> 
> He doesn’t even bat an eye at your question, instead offering one of his own. “Do you know what day it is today?”
> 
> Oh, shit. That’s a loaded question if you’ve ever heard one. You think hard. His birthday was last month, so it can’t be that. And it’s nowhere near Christmas, which means it’s also not your birthday. You’re also pretty sure there aren’t any new romance movies out that he’s been raving about or anything. So what’s so special about today that’s gotten him this excited?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains, in order, fluff, smut, fluff, self harm/angst/threats.

Things are different after that. Not drastically so, but enough that it feels kind of...off to you, somehow. Karkat’s out a lot more often, still spending most of his free time outside of work and school with you, but now also spending enough time with Kanaya that you have to notice. She also paints his claws for him all the time, so you don’t have to do it anymore. You kind of miss that time together, but he seems so much happier now that you don’t dare to mention it to him. You have so much more free time now; you’re not sure what to do with it. What did you used to do for fun before you started dating him? You liked mixing original songs, taking pictures, even working on that shitty webcomic. Maybe you should pick some of those back up.

In your defense, you already feel terrible about being jealous of Kanaya. You know that moirallegiance is completely different from the romantic thing you and Karkat have going on. But...it just feels so weird to you. So alien.

Some things change for the better, though. He’s so happy now, maybe happier than you’ve ever seen him. And for that, you’ll always be grateful to Kanaya.

On this particular morning, you wake up with a weight on your stomach, and when you open your eyes, you see that it’s Karkat, grinning from ear to ear as he straddles you and shakes your shoulders. “Dave. Dave. Hey, Dave, are you awake?”

“I am now…” You mumble the words, still half asleep as you settle your hands on his hips. You’ve gradually been getting used to waking up earlier ever since you started spending the nights with Karkat, but today is a Saturday and you doubt it’s later than nine, which is just blasphemy as far as you’re concerned. “Fuck, what time is it?”

He doesn’t even bat an eye at your question, instead offering one of his own. “Do you know what day it is today?”

Oh, shit. That’s a loaded question if you’ve ever heard one. You think hard. His birthday was last month, so it can’t be that. And it’s nowhere near Christmas, which means it’s also not _your_ birthday. You’re also pretty sure there aren’t any new romance movies out that he’s been raving about or anything. So what’s so special about today that’s gotten him this excited?

“Uh...it’s Saturday?” You know that’s the wrong answer, but you honestly have no clue what makes today so special. Fortunately, Karkat’s in a good enough mood that it doesn’t seem to bother him. He only laughs it off, shaking his head slightly.

“It’s our six month anniversary! We’ve been dating for half a fucking year, Dave!”

Your eyes widen. Oh shit, have you? You’re admittedly a bit uncertain about when exactly you started dating, but if he says it’s been six months, you’re sure as fuck not going to argue. You grin at him, pulling him down for a kiss - though neither of you can really stop smiling, which makes it a bit hard to do anything more than press your lips together briefly. You don’t mind.

“How do you want to celebrate?” you question as the two of you separate. “Anything at all, you just name it and it’s done.”

He laughs, rolling out of bed and taking your hands to pull you up too. “Well, to start...can you paint my claws for me? I’ll do your nails too. I want...I want them to be red.”

You stare at him, stunned for a moment, then finally snap out of it, nodding enthusiastically and pulling him along to the little living room, gesturing to his couch. “Sit, I’ll grab the stuff. Give me two seconds.” You hurry off to the bathroom to grab Karkat’s nail kit, grinning as you listen to him laugh. God, you’d missed this.

You set the kit on his coffee table, sitting next to him and holding out your hands for his. He doesn’t hesitate to take them gently, letting you examine his claws for a moment. They’re painted jade green right now, only slightly chipped at the tips. You have to admit, Kanaya’s good at this. She’s probably got a lot more practice than you. But just for today, you have to one up her.

You focus on Karkat’s hands as you clean the polish from his claws. They’re so pretty to you, all long slender fingers, fingertips calloused from constant typing. He’s got a few faint scars on his hands and arms, too. You can imagine how he may have gotten them. You don’t want to.

When you glance up at him, he’s watching you, chewing his lip as he studies your face intently. You pause, staring at him. “...What is it?”

He blinks, seeming somewhat caught off guard by the question, then smiles, shaking his head. “No, it’s nothing, just...nothing.”

You stare in silence for a moment longer. You doubt it’s ‘nothing’, but you won’t push him to say more if he doesn’t want to. Instead, you shrug, looking back down and painting a clear base coat onto his claws. When he’s ready, he’ll tell you.

 

* * *

 

The two of you end up with matching nails - bright, glossy red, with little gold heart stickers decorating them. Only your left ring fingers are the exceptions, instead just painted a shiny gold. A little cheesy, maybe, but you think it’s cute. Evidently, so does Karkat, who’s grinning from ear to ear as he leads you out of the apartment.

Fortunately, it seems like he’s got today all planned out. Now that your nails are done (and dry), he says he wants to go to your coffee spot. It sees like as good a place as any to start. After all, it was the first place where the two of you actually hung out.

He insists on paying, so you claim your usual high table while he waits for your stuff. It’s not long before he’s returning with a carefully balanced tray - two iced coffees, a cookie, and a couple of muffins that you can call breakfast. He perches everything on the table before hopping (climbing) up into his seat. You pass him his coffee - it’s the one with all the sweetened condensed milk sitting in the bottom of it - before grabbing your own. You both drink in silence for a moment before he pipes up, a grin on his face.

“Hey, remember when you tried to pap me here?”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “How could I forget after the bitch-fit you threw over it? I still don’t think it was that big of a deal.”

He only snorts. In all fairness, you understand enough about quadrants now to get why it was so taboo, but that doesn’t mean that you think it should be. “...Besides, it’s not like you have a squeaky clean history with this place either. What about that time that you yelled at the new barista for getting your drink order wrong?”

Immediately, his cheeks flush bright red. You grin as he puffs up defensively. “Hey, I just wanted to make sure I was getting what I wanted. I didn’t think he’d just start crying like that!”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Well, he did, and what did you do?” He’s silent, but you both know the answer. “...You made a run for it.”

“I panicked!” He whines, getting another amused laugh from you. He glances up at the sound, offering an embarrassed little smile. “...Yeah. I guess it was kind of funny, in hindsight.”

“And now you know better than to yell at random baristas,” you offer.

He snorts. “Yeah, and you know better than to pap trolls you’ve known for a day in public.”

The two of you break down in giggles, not quite managing to keep the sound contained at your table. You get a few funny looks from the other customers, but no one says anything. Honestly, you wouldn’t give a shit even if they did. You’re having the time of your life. This is easily the best date you’ve ever been on, and it’s only just started. You’ve got no clue what Karkat’s got planned for the rest of the day, but if this is setting the tone, you have no doubt that you’ll adore every second of it.

 

* * *

 

You two are so busy talking, by the time you finish your breakfasts, your coffees are all watery from the melted ice. You drink them anyways, of course. Neither of you have very high standards for coffee. Even after you finish your food and drinks, you sit around and chat for a while. By the time you leave, it’s technically afternoon.

The two of you decide to catch an early movie. You both kind of wanted to watch the new Avengers movie, but of course it’s sold out. Karkat’s kind of indifferent after that, so you get to pick the movie - A Quiet Place it is, then. You think this might be the quietest you’ve ever been during a movie. When you leave, even Karkat has to admit that it was pretty fascinating, and he usually hates scary stuff. That’s how you know it was a damn good movie.

Karkat insists that you need to go home after that, but you stop by a mall on your way to have a late lunch. Or maybe early dinner? Diunch? Luiner? Whatever. The point is, you have a great meal of greasy food court food before heading home. Except that, when you get to his apartment, he refuses to let you in.

“Go over to your room,” he insists. “Go get changed.”

“Get changed?” you echo. “Are we going back out?”

He pauses as if realizing he forgot to mention that, then offers an almost embarrassed smile. You’re so in love with that smile. “...Yeah, we are. We’re going to your club.”

You stare for a moment, then grin down at him. “I _knew_ you were having fun last time! You just didn’t want to admit it, you stubborn little shit!”

He laughs, giving you a light shove. “Oh, fuck off. Go get dressed already. I’ll meet you downstairs.” He packs your lips, and before you can respond, he ducks into his apartment, shutting the door in your face.

You’re grinning as you head over to your own apartment. It feels like forever since you’d been there. Most of your stuff is in Karkat’s room at this point. Maybe you guys should just move in together… You push the thought aside for now, sending Aradia a link to your drive account, filled with your favourite songs, including a few of your own mixes.

 

TG: aa i swear if you play that tonight ill love you forever and never ask for another favour again

 

You don’t wait for a response, hurriedly getting changed into skinny jeans and a loose white shirt. You grab a leather jacket too, though the chances of you actually wearing it are slim, considering how warm it was outside moments ago, but it matches your outfit, so fuck it. You rub some water over your face and dry it off so it at least looks like you’re clean, then take a couple of seconds to fix your hair and adjust your shades. Satisfied, you head out.

You don’t have to wait for long before Karkat’ joins you in the lobby. He’s wearing that outfit you got for him - the leather pants that cling to him like a second skin, and the shirt whose sides leave much of his torso exposed. He looks a bit self conscious, arms crossed and head slightly bowed. Immediately as he approaches you, you tip his head up, pressing a brief kiss to his lips. He stares up at you with wide eyes, clearly caught off guard.

“You look amazing, Kat. Ready to go?” You hold out your hand. After a brief pause, he takes it.

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t take your cab too long to get you to Heat and Clockwork. You’re still holding your boyfriend’s hand as you head in. Immediately, the music hits you. Aradia came through. She’s playing one of your songs.

Karkat’s face lights up as he hears it, and his gaze snaps up to your face. “This is yours!” He’s practically glowing with excitement, with pride. And it’s on your behalf. You hadn’t thought he’d even recognize your stuff. You play all your mixes for him, of course, but you hadn’t thought he’d _remember_ them.

He grabs your hands, dragging you onto the dance floor with an excited, “Come on!” You couldn’t have resisted if you’d wanted to. In no time, you’re in the crowd of bodies, your hands on his hips as they swayed to the rhythm of the music, his own hands resting on top of yours, and all you can see is his smile, all you can hear is his laugh.

You’re not sure how many songs pass with the two of you dancing together like that but eventually, he inches closer to speak into your ear. Even then, he’s almost yelling over the music. “My feet hurt. Can we go sit by the bar?”

You don’t bother yelling back, just nodding and taking his hand, pushing through the crowd to get to the bar. You let him sit first before hopping into the seat next to him. He’s tied your jacket around his waist so that you won’t lose it, because it’s definitely too hot in here to wear it. Even without it, you’re both sweating. You wipe your forehead before waving tonight’s bartender over. Hopefully, you’ll get a discount on drinks even though you’re not working tonight.

Neither you nor Karkat like beer or bitter drinks like that, so you both get cocktails instead - you get a strawberry daiquiri, and he gets a peach mojito. It’s pretty gay.

“...I had a good time last time.” Karkat confesses after a long sip of his drink. “I’m having a good time tonight too. Hell, the whole day’s been...it’s been perfect, Dave.”

This is hardly the time or place to get sappy, but you can’t help but agree. You haven’t had this much fun in ages. Yet Karkat could get you like this with no effort, could have you smiling and laughing and having the time of your life. And somehow, he does all that while enjoying himself too. God, you love him.

You find your cheeks heating up as you realize what you’d been thinking. _Love._ Neither of you have used that word in relation to the other yet, have you? At least not out loud. Fuck, you’re grateful for the wild lights in this place, because you’re definitely blushing right now.

You push those thoughts aside for the time being. You can worry about using that ‘L’ word later. For now, you just want to enjoy this night out with your boyfriend. You drape an arm across his shoulders, pretending for a moment that you’re not melting in here. “I know exactly what you mean. And hey, the night is still young. We can stay here as long as you want, or we can head somewhere else. Anything you want.”

He stares at you for a moment, then presses his lips to yours. He tastes like heat and alcohol and food court sushi and peaches, and under it all, just so utterly _himself._ You can’t even explain that taste. You don’t hesitate to kiss back.

He pulled back after a few moments, grinning from ear to ear. “Now drink up, cutie. I want to go back to dancing.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You down your drink, waiting for Karkat to finish too before pulling him out onto the dancefloor. He laughs as you do, draping his arms over your shoulders as you find a spot. Aradia isn’t playing your music anymore, but it’s still easy to catch the rhythm, bouncing and swaying along to it. Your hands settle on your date’s hips, loving feeling the curve of them, the way they swing to the music. He said before that he didn’t know how to dance, but you beg to differ. He’s perfect.

You pull his hips closer to yours, and somehow, you can hear his laugh even over the music booming in your ears. His smile is brighter than any of the lights flashing around you. Ugh. You sound like some sort of shitty, awkwardly out of character fanfiction version of yourself when you think things like that, but goddammit, it’s fucking true.

Karkat moves his hands, fingers curling in the shorter hairs at the back of your head. You’d been meaning to get a haircut for a while now, but the way he does that makes you glad that you haven’t. You kiss his forehead, then pull his hips flush against you, reveling in the little gasp he rewards you with. And then, a new set of sounds meet your ears over the music. He’s breathing hard, panting, even. Even in the heat of the club, this breath on the skin of your neck almost burns. You gradually still, realizing he’d stopped too. “...Hey, Kat? You alright?”

You have to listen hard to catch his quiet response. “...I’m ready to go home now.” For a moment, you’re worried, but then he looks up at you, and that look on his face...fuck. You don’t have a goddamn thing to worry about.

“Oh. Oh, fuck, yeah, come on.” His hands slide down your arms until you’re holding one tightly. You wind your way through the crowd, Karkat right behind you as you manage to get outside. Not for the first time, you’re grateful that cabs have a habit of hanging around outside of your club waiting for the drunks to come stumbling out. You guide Karkat to the nearest one, holding the door for him before getting quickly in after him. You give the driver the address of your apartment building, and then you’re off.

Neither of you seems to be able to keep your hands off of each other. You try your best to keep it subtle, but you’re absolutely groping his thigh, and he’s red faced as a hand settles on yours, leading it further up. God fucking damn.

It feels like ages before the cab pulls to a stop outside of your building. You pay him, making sure to leave a tip, then quickly follow Karkat out, giggling like a pair of kids hearing the word Uranus (you think, like you don’t still laugh when you hear it). You manage to keep yourselves more or less in check until you leave the stairwell on your floor, and then your lips are on his and you don’t plan on moving them any time soon.

Instantly, he’s kissing back, hands eagerly cupping your cheeks, holding you in place. You take tiny steps forward, making him move back until his back is against the door of his apartment. One hand moves to grab his ass, getting him to whine softly against your mouth. Your other hand searches your pocket for your copy of his key. It’s not long before you find it, unlocking the door and holding his body against yours so that he doesn’t fall when you open it. And then you’re both stumbling inside, bumping into walls and furniture as you blindly make your way to his room (after pausing to lock the door, of course).

You break the kiss for a few seconds, sitting on the edge of Karkat’s bed and pulling him down by the hips to straddle your lap. And then you’re kissing again, his hands gripping your shoulders as if that was all that was keeping him grounded at this point. Your hands stay planted on his hips, but even if they hadn’t been there, of _course_ you would have noticed the way he started rocking them against yours. How could you not? You couldn’t have ignored it if you tried.

You trail your kisses lower, moving down his neck and reveling in the way he tips his head backwards and slightly to one side to bare this throat for you. You love it when he gets like this, all needy and obedient, going along with anything you want without you even having to as. Of course, you love when he tries to tease and hold out on you too, little shit that he is. Hell, you just love him. You love him.

“Dave…” His shaky voice breathing your name brings you back into the moment. You’ll never get tired of that sound. Not for the first time, you appreciate just how deeply cut the sides of his shirt are - it makes it too easy to press your palms against his grub scars, rubbing them slowly and shivering at the soft moan the act draws from him. You unlatch your lips from his neck, leaning back just a touch, just enough to see his face. His eyes are shut, eyebrows furrowed, lips pressed firmly together like he’s using all his strength just to keep quiet.

A slight smile tugs at your lips as you watch him. God, you love him. You lean back in, gently nipping his neck before murmuring against his skin. “Come on, Kat, you know I love the sound of your voice. Let me hear you? Pretty please?”

He only presses his lips harder together, shaking his head. So he’s settled on ‘stubborn shit’, has he? You can work with that. “Gonna make me make you?” You ask quietly. He doesn’t say anything, but you’re close enough that you can feel his face heat up. That would be a yes, then. So be it.

You press a few kisses to a spot on his neck, then bite down gently, sucking for a few moments before pulling off. You repeat the motion, a bit lower, and again, and again, until you’re pulling the collar of his shirt down so you can nip at his collarbones. Finally, he whines softly, pressing his hips down against yours, fingers gripping your shoulders a bit harder. You groan, pressing down a bit harder on his scars and getting a louder whine. “There we go...was that so hard?”

He huffs, pushing his hands under your shirt and sliding them up to rest on your chest. “Shut it,” he grumbles, but the threat is lost in that little pout, lips swollen from kissing.

You grin, pressing down until he arches his back, a quiet but unmistakable cry of pleasure leaving him. “Make me.”

Red-faced, he pulls your shirt all the way off before leaning right into you, wrapping his arms around your neck and kissing you hard. Your hands resume their gentle rubbing as you kiss back. You can tell that he’s giving his all in trying to stay committed to this, but soon enough, he pulls back, panting. You raise an eyebrow, and he looks pointedly away. You’ve won this one.

“Pants.” he mumbles, and that’s all you need. You unbutton your jeans, then his pants, undoing the zipper and pulling down hard on the fabric. They slip down slightly, but won’t go past his thighs, stuck to his skin.

“Jesus,” you say, and you can’t help but laugh, even as Karkat goes bright red and glares at you. “I didn’t realize they were _that tight,_ Kat.”

He shoves you lightly and rolls off of you, struggling to get his pants off. “Shut up, asshole, you’re the one who bought them. Not my fault my legs are fatter than you thought they were.”

You roll your eyes, getting up and helping him get his pants off. “Karkat, your legs aren’t fat. They’re fucking beautiful, just like the rest of you, and I’d gladly choke to death between your thighs if that proved the point.” As if to confirm what you’re saying, you lean right in, mouthing at the wet spot on his boxers. He arches his back, fucking mewling beneath you. You weren’t lying when you said he was beautiful.

He grips your hair, holding you in place as you lick and kiss and suck through his boxers. You’re not sure if he’s trying to hold you to your word about choking to death, but hell, it would be a good way to go. You pull back after a moment only to replace your mouth with your hand. You rub that wet spot for a few moments, then press a finger slightly in, loving how something as simple as that can have him writhing beneath you.

You pull back completely now, tugging your pants off. Karkat pulls his shirt off and tosses it aside, then discards his boxers, laying bare and spread out just for you. Fuck, how is he so perfect?

You pull your own boxers off before crawling back into the bed, scooping him up and shifting to let him straddle you once more. You don’t have to look to know that your erection is pressed just right against his nook, parting its lips and settling between them. You rock your hips against his heat, and that’s all it takes to have him whimpering and moaning, clinging tight to you and fuck, yeah, you want him.

Your hands settle once more on his hips, pulling them closer. He moans loudly as your dick presses a bit harder against his nook. “Fuck, Kat…” you murmur, pressing your face into his neck and peppering it with kisses. “Ride me…?”

He doesn’t even hesitate. He shifts, rising onto his knees as he positioned himself over your cock. And then he’s slowly lowering himself onto you, letting out a low moan all the while. He’s so fucking hot around you, squeezing in all the right ways. And yet, he’s so slick, so ready for _you_ that you slide right in without a problem.

He stays where he is once you’re all the way inside of him, and you can hear his panting right by your ear. You don’t dare move, letting him take his time to adjust to the feeling. It only takes a few seconds before he’s rocking his hips, breathing going sharper and more uneven. And finally, he’s slowly rising and falling once more.

It’s hard not to let yourself thrust into him. You’d kind of had a silent freak out any other time you’d been with trolls, worried that your bodies weren’t compatible, that it’s feel weird or unpleasant to them somehow. But it always feels so right to be in Karkat like this. And - yet another thing you love about him - whether he wants to or not, he never holds back on letting you know just how good you make him feel. He grips your shoulders for support, panting and moaning as he rode you, slowly but steadily gaining speed. His thighs tremble with the effort to keep going. You slip your hands down his sides, instead gripping the underside of his thighs to help him move.

“Dave…” He gasps your name, then again. “Dave…!” You love his voice, especially when he gets like this. It’s all breathy and shaky, high-pitched and desperate. The sound alone makes it clear that he needs you just as much as you need him. “Ah, fuck, _Dave!”_

You can’t keep still any longer. Your hips snap up to meet his, and he throws his head back, back arching as he cries out in pleasure. Your hips thrust upwards again, and again, each time rewarded with a wet smack and a little cry, steadily growing louder. Your hands slide from his thighs to his ass. He’s trembling all over now, nook gripping your cock just right.

You want to see his face. You try to lean back to take a look, but he’s holding on so tight that he just moves with you. You can’t help but smile at that, though. You give his ass a little squeeze, turning your head so that you can speak into his ear, knowing he loves your breathy voice as much as you adore his. “You like it, right? Does it feel good?”

He moans at the question, then cries out as you thrust into him again, pulling his hips down sharply. “ _Ah!_ Fuck, Dave, love it, please, please…!”

Incoherent already? Damn. You nip his ear, groaning into it as you thrust. Karkat’s grip only tightens, until you’re almost scared those claws are going to cut you. You distract yourself with how beautiful he sounds, his cries getting louder, higher, gasps for breath occupying the space between them. He presses his face against your neck, no doubt trying to muffle himself, but you can still hear his words. He’s so _loud._

“Yes, yes, yes, Dave…! Fuck, yes, gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna...I’m... _mmmh!”_

And just like that, he comes undone, pressing his hips to yours as hard as he can and arching his back with a loud cry as he climaxes. His nook’s squeezing you _so fucking tight_ and _goddamn,_ you wouldn’t have it any other way. You can feel his wet heat spilling into your lap. You’re probably going to have to burn these sheets in the morning, but you don’t care right now. You’re not done.

You let him work through his orgasm, and when he starts relaxing again, you shift, laying him on his back without pulling out and positioning yourself over him. He yelps in surprise, staring up at you with wide eyes. He’s still all flushed, face, ears, chest. You want him. You’ll always want him.

Your hands move again to his thighs, but this time, you pull them up, working until you’ve got his legs spread, knees held down at either side of his chest. “What…?” he starts, and then you’re thrusting again, making him cut himself off with a shark cry and arch of his back.

Still, it’s not long before he finds his words - shaky as they may be. “Fuck! I...i-it feels...ah, fuck, Dave, please, wait!”

Everything in you screams for you to keep going, but you immediately stop anyways, quickly pulling back and studying his face for any hint of pain or discomfort. You’re not doing anything he doesn’t want. You’re not going to hurt him.

“Hey, what is it? What’s wrong?” You let go of his legs to cup his cheeks, studying his face carefully.

He shakes his head, bright red as he looks away from you. “It’s...nothing’s _wrong._ I just...I’m...I’m still all sensitive there, you know?”

No doubt. You can still feel him twitching around you. You nod, pulling out slightly. “Do you want me to stop?” He’s quiet for a moment, then bites his bottom lip, shaking his head. You sigh, turning his head so that he’s looking at you again. “If you change your mind, you can tell me, okay? Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.”

He stares at you for a moment, then leans up, pressing his lips to yours. When he pulls back again, you’re pretty sure it’s only because you were too dumbfounded to reciprocate. “I’ll tell you, okay? So you can keep going…”

You have no clue what to say, and you don’t want to risk word-vomiting and ruining the moment. So you simply nod, pushing his legs up once more and returning to thrusting, starting slow but soon speeding back up. Again, you’re rewarded with his little cries with every thrust, and if he’d been loud before, there wasn’t a word for it now. He’s euphoric, and has no problem letting the whole damn building know how he felt. And goddamn, if that’s not the hottest thing ever, you don’t know what is.

“Dave!” He calls your name, mostly, loud and slurred and breathy. “Dave, Dave, Dave!” Over and over like that alone is the greatest praise he can think of. “Mmmh, yes, yes, yes!” Affirmations too, so many little ‘yes’s encouraging you to keep it up. And then the swears. Though he’s not so colourful with them as usual, satisfied to stick with one. “Fuck, fuck, Dave, fuck, yes!”

Your favorites, though, are when he tells you how he feels, begs you, even. It’s not a power thing, honestly. You just love knowing that he feels good, knowing that he likes what you’re doing. That’s all you want. But goddamn, how dirty he gets when he’s talking like that...you’re sure as fuck not complaining. “Yes, fuck, yes, Dave, right there, right _there!_ Please, Dave, please, feels good, feels so good. Yes, fuck, yes, Dave, fuck me, fuck me! God, fuck, yes, I love it! Dave, fuck, I love it! Dave, Dave, yes, there, Dave, right there, fuck, please, keep going, keep going, Dave, Dave, _Dave!”_

You make music. You work with music for a living. But if you’d thought you knew what music sounded like before hearing him like this...you were so, so wrong. You want to go harder, want to fuck him until he can only scream, but already, you’re losing your grip. You can’t think straight anymore. You’re close, you’re so fucking close. Your last coherent thought is that - god fucking damn, you’re going to make him cum again before you do.

Your grip on his legs tighten, and then you’re pushing them down, slamming your hips hard into his, trying to find that spot that you know drives him wild. It doesn’t take long for you to find it, and then Karkat’s not using his words anymore, just yelling desperately as you slam into him. Again. And again. And again. You’re not sure if he tries to warn you, but before too long, he’s cumming again, giving his loudest cry yet. His nook squeezes tight, and you can’t hold back anymore. You take one last look at him before squeezing your eyes shut, groaning as you cum. All you can think about is how he looks right now, flushed down to his stomach, eyes squeezed tight, face twisted with pleasure. He’s so goddamn beautiful.

Gradually, you both come down from your highs. You pant, thrusting slowly to work you both through your orgasms, then finally stop, staying there for a moment before slowly pulling out. He shivers beneath you as you do.

You let go of his thighs, sitting back and looking over the mess you two made. Well, he made most of the mess, technically. There’s a lot of red.

You sit there for a moment, catching your breath and watching him do the same before getting to your feet. You still have something to do before you can relax. You head to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth you’ve taken to leaving in the medicine cabinet for exactly such occasions. You wet it, then return to the bedroom, cleaning Karkat up and smiling fondly at his little whines and purrs. You love seeing him like this, but he seems tired, so you don’t want to draw this out. God bless however much sleep he actually got.

Once he’s reasonably clean, you head back to the bathroom, washing out the cloth and using it to clean yourself up too. He left a real mess on your thighs, but it was so goddamn worth it. Once you’re satisfied, you wash the cloth out as well as you can and hang it up to dry. Finally, you return to Karkat’s room.

He’s beyond drowsy now. Hell, he looks like he’s on the verge of passing out. Still, when he sees you, he smiles, holding out his arms. You’re pretty sure your heart melts. You crawl into the bed, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. He curls right into you, closing his eyes and relaxing. You press a kiss to the top of his head before doing the same. A few moments tick by, and you’re pretty sure he’s asleep. At least, until you hear him whisper, so quiet that you have to strain to hear him. “...I love you…”

You’re quiet for a moment, then an easy smile comes to your face. “...I love you too.”

 

* * *

 

You were never a heavy sleeper, per say. But with Karkat draped over you, the warmth of his bed around you, the smell of his shampoo on your pillow...you feel like you could slip into a coma. When you do wake up the next morning, it’s only because of the soft sobbing you hear nearby. Immediately as you realize it’s Karkat, you’re on your feet, pulling on your boxers. He’s not in bed. Hell, he’s not in the _room._

You hurry out to find him, but you don’t have to look far. He’s standing by the front door, staring at a small stack of something in his hand and just...sobbing. He looks miserable, terrified, and god, you wish you could make whatever the problem was just...go away. And then you see his other hand, holding onto his opposite arm and squeezing hard. Too hard. You can see bright red blood dripping from under his claws.

You jolt into action, approaching and resting your hand on top of his. “Hey, hey, no. No, Karkat, please, don’t to that…”

His grip loosens, and you’re quick to guide his hand away before he can start again. Your focus shifts to the stack in his hand. “Let me see...:”

You gently take what he’s holding from him, watching him for a moment to make sure he wouldn’t freak out, then finally look down at what you’re holding. At the top of the pile is a photo. It takes you a second to figure out what you’re looking at, but when you do, the blood drains from your face.

It’s you. You and Karkat, last night. It’s kind of blurry, but once you see it, it’s impossible to deny. It looks like someone took it from the building opposite from Karkat’s room, zoomed way in to see through his window. Whoever took it wrote on it too, scribbling out your face and scrawling in bright red marker, a single word. ‘SLUT’

You look at the next item. Another photo, the same message. Everything else in the pile seems to be the same thing too. Well...everything except for one. There’s a note at the bottom of the stack. You don’t want to read it, but you do anything.

_Mutant slut can’t find a single troll likes him, has to pail with human freak instead. Seems like a good match. We know where you live, fucker._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry? This is going on hiatus too??? Ha, I feel bad for you guys. Check out my [tumblr](https://lilithwiththefanfics.tumblr.com/) for more information. Or to leave a question/complaint. Orrr you could leave a comment here and we'll see what happens ;)


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